Only Silence
by vernajast
Summary: Iruka is never mission sex. That was what Genma had told Kakashi. How did he know? Angst, debauchery, friendships, and a happy ending. I'm horrid at summaries, but I promise it's a good story...Eventual KakaIru but others leading to it. Past YonKa
1. Only Silence

_I used to have some kind of odd read order up here. I've decided to leave it as is and let you read them as written. They aren't in chronological order that way, but one does lead to the next, giving hints. I like them like this. My apologies to those who find it confusing. I appreciate you sticking with me. This is a darker story, though I believe it has a happy ending (maybe?). Any questions raised in one chapter will likely be answered in the next, but if you have anything you'd like to know, feel free to ask, as that inspires new chapters. :D Special thanks to "MrsHatake" on LJ/dA for the prompts that inspired this one-shot and the subsequent chapters._

_This chapter, Only Silence, was a standalone one-shot. And then questions got asked, and I had to try and answer them. And the rest of the series was born. Prompts were 'cup,' 'thirst,' 'cradle,' 'darkness,' 'threat.' Thanks, thanks. I hope you enjoy it. vj  
_

* * *

**Kakashi, 25, ANBU; Iruka, 22, chuunin (teacher/takes missions).**

**There is a war, a fourth shinobi war, going on. All shinobi are on active duty or on call.**

A sob from the bedroll across the fire drew Kakashi's attention away from the shapes of the clouds and branches above him. He flinched at the noise.

_"Iruka is never mission sex."_

Kakashi knew it. Genma had harped on it enough while he lazed about the house they shared with Raidou, Izumo, and Kotetsu, watching him pack his gear on the pretense of _helping_.

"Iruka is never, _ever_ mission sex, and don't you fucking forget it, Shi-chan." He'd clicked his senbon against his back teeth, knowing it would set Kakashi's nerves on edge.

The silver-haired jounin smirked, his eye returning to the patterns of dark and light in the trees. He recalled yanking Genma's senbon out of the man's mouth and tossing it into the nearby doorframe. "I'll remember it properly when you can remember not to call me _Shi-chan._"

"You know you love it, bastard."

Kakashi stopped the memory before the goodbye sex could start. At least Raidou returned tomorrow and Genma wouldn't be alone in the house for long.

Another sob pulled his focus back to the hunched shape curled just inside the fire's guttering light. Iruka wasn't weak--far from it--but the boy he'd killed today, a Cloud genin...

The boy had been barely twelve-years-old, if that. There'd been shuriken flying, a rogue kunai...It was the first time Kakashi had seen Iruka fight and he was astonished to find the sensei's chakra snaking out across the battlefield, gaging the movements of the enemy, then relying on the basic moves he taught at the academy to dispatch the Cloud nin efficiently. Kakashi had paused in his own defense to witness the graceful moves as Iruka ducked, threw, dodged, spun, and threw again. The kunai hit with well-practiced, deadly accuracy, and both opponents fell before the Leaf chuunin had even seen their faces.

He hadn't broken there, during the battle. Instead, after it was all over, he'd whispered a barely audible, "Let's go," before taking Kakashi's arm for support. To his shame, Kakashi had felt an oddly pleasant stirring in him at the contact and held fast to the other nin lest he lose that feeling. It seemed to be something akin to awe, maybe mixed with a little lust, though that was probably just a side-effect of the fight. Kakashi reveled in battle and the way his heart was beating, coupled with the scent of sweat and determination pouring off the sensei...it was intoxicating. On reflex, he recalled that he had actually pulled Iruka closer, wrapping his arm around the chuunin's waist to steady his faltering step and glancing down in time to catch a bright blush spreading across his cheeks.

They'd shared tea in a pair of tin cups Kakashi carried in his belt pouch and the jounin had taken the time to examine the younger man for injuries. Not just the physical kind. He'd seen the way Iruka froze when he leaned over the body far too small to be a chuunin like his fellows. He recognized that look, an expression he hadn't witnessed in fifteen years. He noticed a strain beneath the smooth lines of his face, the scar, the enigmatic eyes.

A third sob had Kakashi out of bed and beside the other man before he knew he'd moved. "Ne, Iruka? Iruka..."

A grunt from beneath the blanket was quickly followed by muttering, "Are we already that familiar, _Kakashi_? Are you sure you_ want_ to sit so close to a murderer?" Iruka shuffled a bit beneath the blankets, turning to face his temporary partner. He looked up into Kakashi's single, exposed eye. The lost expression tugged at memories Kakashi felt were better left alone. It was what he found so intriguing about Iruka--the effect he had on others--but that look was one he had never expected to see in _those_ eyes. He reached out, rough fingers grazing across the teacher's smooth, tan cheek.

"Really, sensei, I should ask you the same. I'm the murderer here. You've been known to say so yourself." Instead of recoiling, Kakashi nearly gasped as Iruka nuzzled his cheek into the jounin's gloved hand. Kakashi's thumb traced the furrowed, faded scar across the bridge of Iruka's nose as his opposite hand slid to the loose, tousled hair and tangling into the long strands. Iruka hummed into Kakashi's palm as the jounin rubbed his scalp with strong, agile fingers.

Again, something stirred in Kakashi, deep in his gut, and he bit hard on the inside of his cheek. The familiar coppery thickness of blood filled his senses as he grasped at some semblance of control, but Genma's words faded from his mind even as he recalled them.

_"Iruka is __never mission sex."_

Kakashi bent toward the man, hooking a finger into his mask and pulling it down, pressing taut lips against Iruka's mouth before opening. His tongue slipped through the chuunin's gasp.

For a moment--one blessed, beautiful moment--Iruka kissed him back. The weight of the day, the battle, the war, the death...all of it seemed to be flowing out of the younger man and Kakashi drank it up, lapping at the heated tongue and breath and life of the other, unable to quench the sudden, unsuspected thirst for the essence of what made Iruka...Iruka.

And then he found himself thrown back, shoved away from Iruka and halfway across the clearing. The chuunin crouched in a fighting stance, watching the Copy-nin intently. Glaring. Angry.

Kakashi's brow furrowed in confusion, but Iruka cut him off before he could speak. "You think...I'm just...You can just...I don't _do_ that!! Not with people like _you_! Stay the hell away from me!"

"But you _need_ to release those emotions, sensei," he tried matter-of-factly. His head was still a little fuzzy from being thrown, a little drunk from lust and his own _need_ to cleanse his soul. Somehow, it had seemed like Iruka was the answer, maybe even the cure..."Otherwise, you might--"

"Dammit, no!" With a glare that obviously meant the conversation was over, Iruka dropped to his bedroll and resumed his huddled spot beneath the blanket. Kakashi watched him for a beat longer before returning to his side of the fire. _He's just a chuunin, after all. Wouldn't even be on this mission if we weren't so shorthanded. Damned war. Surveillance mission, my ass. It's like they knew we were coming. Gods, he's beautiful when he fights..._

The last thought brought a melancholy smile to the now masked face of the Copy-nin. He pictured Iruka's face as he spun amidst the Cloud ninja, and lost himself in the glinting steel of the sensei's dark eyes. Abruptly, the face changed to the sodden, defeated man who had bent over the prone body of the Cloud genin, desperately searching for any sign of life. His expression cracked a little when he found none, and further when he traced his hand across the boy's cheek and trailed gentle fingers over the bright blue eyes, pressing them closed before rigor could set in.

Kakashi knew that look. He'd recognized it before, but pushed the thoughts aside. Now, alone in his bedroll, far from sleep, he couldn't escape. The dead, cold look in the man's eyes...it was just like _his_. It had been their last mission together, though neither knew it at the time...

* * *

**Kakashi, 15, ANBU; Minato, 25/27, jounin.**

All evening, his sensei had been quiet and still. His usually bright blue eyes were flat, cold, taking no heat from the fire at which he'd been staring. Kakashi couldn't read the expression and, finally, gave up, burrowing into his blankets and hoping Minato-sensei did the same soon enough.

He lay there in the dark for a long time, listening for movement, for evidence that the blond had gone to bed, but heard nothing. He silently mourned for the man. Killing wasn't in Minato's nature, but he was so good at it...The pair spent most of their time on the font lines at the border nearest Rock Country. They did more killing than either cared to remember.

But this was the first time in all their years together that Kakashi had seen Minato so close to breaking, so bereft.

The teenager sighed and rolled over, putting his back toward the fire. He finally heard his sensei shuffling to stand and was relieved that the man had decided to get some rest. But Minato wasn't moving toward his own bedroll. The silver-haired boy stiffened and grew very still when he felt a hand drift over his back, from between his shoulder blades to his tailbone in one slow, fluid motion. He couldn't believe the blond, the object of his secret obsession, at whom he'd been stealing glances for four years...he was touching him.

Minato did it again with more pressure, forcing a reaction from Kakashi's body. The boy wriggled under the hand, flipping around to face his sensei and peering up into eyes he knew could undo him in an instant. But the spark wasn't there, the life. Minato's eyes were as empty as the eye Kakashi often found staring back at him from the mirror. The penetrating gaze was wrong in every sense and he felt himself pull back emotionally, running from Minato. From the...the _wrongness_ of it all.

Without a word, Minato pressed Kakashi's back flat to the ground, a searing palm on each of the young ANBU's exposed shoulders. Kakashi denied it to himself, but when Minato saw the boy's mental retreat and the face went slack, the blond's face fell even further. Losing the last of himself. Becoming stone.

The blond head dipped down, nipping the edge of Kakashi's mask and dragging it down with his teeth. Fear flared in the pit of Kakashi's stomach just before Minato's mouth engulfed his own.

_Our first kiss, and it's like **this**._ It was empty as Minato's eyes, or so Kakashi convinced himself--_had_ to convince himself. Because if he let himself believe it meant anything, that this was anything more than mission sex, it would hurt so much more when he realized he was wrong, when life carried on, when Minato acted like they hadn't...like he didn't...

Minato's hands on Kakashi's cock halted all thought as his body reacted violently to the contact. His hips bucked and rolled into the touch and he felt the rush of heat and pressure as his arousal made itself known. Kakashi's heart leapt up into his throat when he felt a hand on his ass, prompting his hips to lift. Minato slid Kakashi's pants and boxers down his hips to his knees and further, negotiating the boy's feet out of the ends and leaving him exposed in the moonlight. Even as he felt immensly vulnerable, he craved more. He wanted to be bare in front of Minato in every sense and know what the man saw and felt. But the eyes that would have shown him were dark and clouded mirrors, made so by too much time and too much blood.

A desperate hand clung to Kakashi's armor, yanking at the straps and ripping it away. They were back in Fire country, a safe distance away from any threat, and there was no fear of attack, so Kakashi let it go, helping himself to removing the skin tight sleeveless shirt and his mask. A yelp escaped his tight lips when Minato's thumb found his nipple and rolled it around, pinching slightly, twisting. A callused hand ran across the expanse of Kakashi's pale, hairless chest, tracing the contours of muscles and the scars that pitted the landscape of his body.

Kakashi's resolve collapsed. He let himself believe it was real. He let the emotion that clogged his throat fly free and gasped out the name of the man above him. He sacrificed a piece of himself to the night with that single word, betraying years of silent suffering and need and his body trembled at Minato's answering moan that rang low and heavy in the darkness.

The blond shifted to crouch between Kakashi's legs, leaning forward and recapturing the boy's lips. One hand trailed along Kakashi's ass while the other fished around for something in his jounin vest pocket. A pop-click preceded the alien sensation of a slicked finger slipping inside of him, gently prodding, sliding in and out. It was soon joined by a second and the feeling was indescribable, not because of what it was, but _who_. Kakashi sought to move against the other's hand, pressing the fingers deeper, harder, faster. Gasping against Minato's mouth as he kissed him, tangling their tongues and lips and beings together in an effort to become one.

The fingers withdrew and the emptiness that overtook him was instantly replaced by frantic need and fear as the man's hardened cock pressed into him. Minato waited until the moment Kakashi's breath hitched to shove his tongue deeper, filling the teenager's mouth completely as he buried himself to the hilt, and Kakashi slammed his eyes shut, thinking he would go mad. He couldn't contain himself and Minato at once.

With sudden clarity, Kakashi realized he'd been tricked into letting it mean more than it was and he only felt so hungry and needful because he'd allowed it to happen. The boy that was "Kakashi" withdrew again, pulling back within himself, dissociating from the noise and commotion of Minato fucking him into oblivion. He'd wanted it for so long. The golden locks that tickled his forehead with each thrust. The rosy cheeks. The...the eyes. The spark had not returned and Kakashi feared it might be permanently lost if he stopped this now, if he kept Minato from finding his outlet.

He'd been having mission sex since he was ten. _It's nothing._ It seemed Minato had already known what was common knowledge amongst ANBU: Kakashi was always mission sex.

He hated it.

He hated himself for letting it happen.

He trembled on the edge of maddening pleasure as Minato drove into him.

The electric tang of blood as he bit his tongue helped offset the anguished, strangled cry he felt escape his chest as he came hard across their stomachs. But it didn't spare his heart from breaking when Minato came just after, without a sound, the blond head falling limply to the boy's chest.

Both heaved and shook with exertion and the forgotten need for oxygen.

At the edge of sleep, Kakashi sensed Minato's withdrawal. From the sounds he was hearing, he pictured Minato removing his shirt and using it to clean them both, wadding it up and shoving it into his pack after retrieving a new one. He was sure Minato would return to his own bedroll, only to be surprised when his sensei crawled into bed with him. An arm snaked beneath his shoulders, another crossed his chest, and Minato cradled to boy to him, stroking the silver head, planting kisses in his hair and "mmmm"-ing gently. Kakashi spared a moment to commit the feeling to memory before giving himself over to sleep.

In the morning, not unexpectedly, he awoke alone. Minato stood across the fire from him, stabbing at the logs and stoking the flames. Two quail roasted at the center: breakfast. The blond smiled when he noticed the boy was awake, but Kakashi couldn't return it. Minato frowned and circled the fire, crouching down in front of the teenager. "Good morning, Kashi-kun." He reached out and caressed the side of Kakashi's face, but as reassuring as the gesture was surely meant to be, it felt wrong to pretend that there was suddenly something between them. That it had meant _anything_ to the man.

Kakashi kept his eye carefully neutral lest he betray the pain he felt as he watched Minato's merry gaze roam over his features in open admiration. "Kashi-kun, are you okay? I mean, _okay_ okay?"

"I'm fine." The stale words had the intended effect as Minato stood, still frowning...and something more. Kakashi denied that it was despair he saw in the man's eyes as the blond backed away. He watched Minato wander around to the other side of the fire, that look stark in his mind.

Kakashi dressed without a word. They ate without a word. They completed the last half-day of traveling without a word.

There was nothing to say.

At the gate, Kakashi split from his sensei, immediately heading toward his tiny bachelor apartment, ignoring the blond who was calling his name as he sped away. He couldn't stand the way Minato looked at him. He couldn't stand the way Minato was forcing himself to pretend.

He hadn't known it would be their last mission together, though his sensei probably had.

When news of his appointment as Hokage filtered through the village, Kakashi tried to see him, but he was refused outright. He tried again the next afternoon. The morning after that. Eventually, he went out on a mission with other ANBU, and then another, and another, and before he knew it, the weeks had become months.

In early October, he visited the monument, tracing his fingers along "Uchiha Obito" and "Hagane Rin". He told them what had happened, how much he loved Minato, how empty he felt, how lost. Rin gasped and cried out, "Oh, Kakashi!" Obito grunted, muttering, "And you thought **I** was the idiot?" His head shot up, searching for the source of the voices, but there was no one and Kakashi wondered, not for the first time, if he was going crazy. If so, he blamed Minato. Snow flurries began to fall and he vowed he would find a way to corner the blond, to get answers and understand before the next snowfall.

But there had been another mission.

And then the demon fox appeared.

* * *

Kakashi woke with a start, surprised he'd drifted off at all. It was still night and, by the new position of the celestial bodies overhead, he guessed only three hours had passed. He sat up slowly and stretched, disheartened at the sound of cracking joints and the burn of many small pangs. _Twenty years of sleeping on the fucking ground,_ he thought, rolling his eye in the dark, though no one could see.

By the even breathing across the clearing, he could tell that Iruka had finally fallen asleep, though occasional gasps and mumbling made him wonder if the sensei was having a nightmare. With a muttered, "who doesn't," Kakashi rolled over and tried to get comfortable.

He was nearly asleep once more when Iruka cried out and the sound of it made his blood run cold. "Kakashi!"

By the man's side in an instant, his tiredness forgotten, Kakashi peered at Iruka through the darkness, half of his mind watching for further signs of distress, the other half running through every scenario in which Iruka would call for him like that--in desperation and fear.

He spent nearly five minutes hovering there, trapped by inaction, before Obito's voice rumbled through his head--"And you thought **I** was the idiot?"--and another five minutes weighing the chances that it would backfire on him, before finally giving up and easing himself down onto Iruka's bedroll. Gently, so as not to wake the sleeping nin, he slipped his arm beneath Iruka's neck and shifted him over until his head was resting on Kakashi's chest. Kakashi wrapped his arms around the chuunin, stroking his long, dark hair and taking in his scent. He was sure there was nothing more naturally right in the universe than what he was doing just then.

Iruka's eyes opened slightly, the lids still heavy in sleep, and he smiled at Kakashi, raising an inquisitive brow. "Whatcha doin?" he mumbled into the jounin's chest and Kakashi grinned, pulling down his mask. Iruka's eyes widened and the hint of a blush, visible in the moonlight, rose in the sensei's cheeks. Kakashi suddenly understood what Genma had been trying to say. Iruka _wasn't_ mission sex. Or detachment. Or emptiness. Not like they were.

Leaning down to rub his bare cheek into Iruka's hair, Kakashi guessed Minato hadn't been either.

And himself? He really was an idiot, he was sure, but he wouldn't make the same mistake twice.

The man lying in his arms deserved better, better than _him_. And he deserved to smile and blush like that for as long as life would allow it. Something in the man's smile was able to loosen the cords around Kakashi's heart--cords tied tight by loneliness and guilt--and he silently vowed to make him smile as often as he could from then on.

Into Iruka's hair, he whispered, "You were having nightmares. Go back to sleep. It's okay, now."

And really, it was.


	2. Only a Moment

**Kakashi, 11, Chuunin; Genma, 14, Chuunin.**

Genma was recounting his latest mission behind enemy lines when he felt, more than saw, a strangely upsetting presence brush past. He paused halfway through the telling and watched Hatake-san's son, Kakashi, knock three times on Sandaime's door, then step back to wait just outside the closed circle of ANBU adults. He was aware of his companions whispering--wondering what was wrong and why did he suddenly go silent--but he didn't care. He was taken in by the spell surrounding the little demon child, the son of a traitor...or a hero, depending on who told the story.

The boy was facing the window, silhouetted by the afternoon light as the sun began its descent over the village. He was small, even for eleven years old, but his thin, immature muscles flexed with the promise of raw, untapped power. His stance reflected the discipline and grace common amongst the elite of Konoha. Genma noted that the boy's clothes weren't a standard-issue chuunin uniform, though he knew that was his rank. _Probably nothing that would fit a kid that small,_ he thought, _That's fucked up._ Taking a step closer, then another, and side-stepping to block some of the sunlight with a protruding corner of the window and, hopefully, find relief from the brightness, Genma winced as he met the boy's blood-shot gaze. He'd been caught. Kakashi leveled a look at the older chuunin that clearly broadcast derision amidst a mixture of suspicion, anger, resentment...and, much to Genma's surprise, a little fear.

Despite the boy's obvious annoyance, Genma continued to stare, unable to look away. The kid looked like death incarnate.

_Fumeiyo yori shi. Death over dishonor._ The phrase flitted through Genma's mind as he realized the boy _also_ looked surprisingly like his father. _Oh._ He probably thought that was why he was staring.

But it wasn't.

The reason Genma was still staring was that the front of Kakashi's uniform was covered in blood--bright red splotches that left his smudged, cruddy skin pale in comparison. Dark circles accentuated large, round, eyes sunken in the wan, childish face. It wasn't Kakashi's blood, as the boy was still getting around under his own power, so that could only mean one thing: assassination mission. _A little kid like that?_

He'd never had occasion to talk to the kid before and, after seeing him like that, Genma was glad. The deadness of his eyes betrayed a mental maturity far beyond that of a normal eleven-year-old boy...Hell, Genma was fourteen and still felt like he was looking into the eyes of a jaded, burnt-out adult. With a grim smirk, he watched a moment longer before muttering, "Shi-chan, you look like shit," and vanishing out the mission room door.

**Kakashi, 17, ANBU; Genma, 20, ANBU.**

When they finally met again, it was after the war, after Kyuubi, after they'd both lost their precious people and found themselves alone in the world. They were drawn together by an ache neither could choke down. Kakashi, all limbs and pale porcelain beauty, a lure Genma couldn't resist. Seizing every opportunity to reaffirm their humanity--against the wall of an alley in Hidden Rock, amongst the tall reeds in a field in Grass Country--the pair grasping onto their only ties to the world of the living, each other.

As they tripped through Hidden Mist, under the guise of drunken sailors, Genma caught the tail end of something Kakashi was muttering under his breath--"...with Sensei..."

He jabbed his partner in the ribs. "You say somethin'?"

"I said, the last time I was here was with Sensei." Kakashi kept his eyes straight forward, never betraying a hint of what Genma knew the statement implied.

"Shi-chan..."

"_Ma-kun_..."

"Aw, c'mon, stop calling me that." Genma draped an arm over Kakashi's shoulders, looking for all the world like an inebriated drunkard while gently squeezing him closer.

Kakashi grinned beneath his mask. "What, what? Are you saying you _don't_ speak the truth, however blunt it may be? However badly I don't want to hear it? It suits you well. _Shi-chan_, on the other hand--"

Genma dropped his arm from Kakashi's shoulders and stopped walking. Kakashi come to a halt a few steps ahead. "You know, you can't chase his ghost forever."

The silver-haired shinobi fell silent, the teasing forgotten, swallowed up by the memories of blond hair and smiling blue eyes, of accidental touches and stolen glances. The ache in his heart that had always been the Yondaime Hokage quaked, and he cracked a little more. Straining his resolve and his ability to keep his features neutral, even under his mask, he shook his head and started walking away.

After a few hurried steps to catch up, Genma whispered near Kakashi's ear, "Don't try to deny it. You've chased his echo for years. By proxy, so have I, and…dammit, if you're not gonna be the death of _me_, _Shi_-chan. This isn't healthy." Just outside the door of the inn at which they were staying, he added, "It's not sane."

**Kakashi, 25, ANBU; Genma, 28, Tokubetsu/Special Jounin.**

It was Genma's birthday.

_Gettin' pretty close to thirty, eh? Whatcha gonna do then?_ He studied the wrinkles around his eyes in the mirror, the fine lines gained by laughing and smiling, even when he was breaking inside, even when his hands were covered in the blood of those he killed doing his duty. Genma always smiled through the pain. And now..._Thirty. I'll be an old man before I know it._ He understood the odds of his actually reaching thirty years of age were slim; he was already amongst the oldest of the active shinobi taking missions.

With two fingers, he pulled the skin at the corners of his eyes back toward his ears, smoothing the lines and revealing the younger man buried beneath. _Oh, there you are._ It was ANBU, he decided, and reassured himself once again that quitting had been for the best.

Shaking the darker thoughts from his head, he smiled at his reflection and winked, stuck a senbon between his teeth, and headed back toward the living room to join his roommates. Izumo and Kotetsu lounged on the couch, limbs entangled in an impossible arrangement, both appearing to be asleep. Kakashi lay on the loveseat, legs hanging over one, dangling end at the knee. He was reading, of course, always reading, and Genma fought the urge to yank the blasted book right out of his hands. Instead, he crossed to Raidou, seated in the decrepit rocking chair, and plopped down on his lap. There was a pop, a crack, and a loud crash as the two fell to the floor, the chair in splinters beneath them.

"Oops?" Genma smiled at the others even as he limped away from the mess, intent on retrieving the broom. As he swept, he asked, "So, where are you guys taking me? I want to be soooo drunk when I get home tonight that I'll forget I'm getting old." A pillow smacked into the side of his head, lobbed from the couch supporting the two chuunin.

"Ma-kun, you can't be getting old. Shinobi don't get old, after all."

"No, you're right..." _Damn, that was really uplifting Kakashi, sheesh._ "Let's get outta here."

The five roommates...lovers...friends left the house as a raucous ball of conversation, tossed jibes, and name-calling. Izumo bet that Raidou would hit the floor first, Rai bet it would be Kotetsu, and Kotetsu bet that Kakashi would outlast them all. Genma didn't care as long as everyone was happy. It was his birthday, after all, and he should get what he wanted. And what he wanted was for his friends to have a good time. He laced his fingers with Raidou's as they walked, shooting a glance toward Kakashi and beckoning him over. With Kakashi on one arm and Raidou on the other, everything felt...right.

"Hey, Kashi, you ever think of quitting...you know..."

"No. Anyway, I don't see Sandaime letting me. What would Konoha do without its Scarecrow?"

Genma mulled it over, honestly thinking before answering, "It'd be a fucking scary place. You're right. You stay with...that...and I'll just hang around here in town where it's safe. Where there are cute chuunin to pester!" Raidou poked him in the side, and the two chuunin walking ahead of them both shot him looks that clearly said what they thought of the idea. "Whaaat? Iruka! I was talking about cute little Iruka_-chan_. Gah!"

"Iruka?"

Raidou grinned at Kakashi. "You know, the one with the--" He motioned, sliding his fingers across the bridge of his nose. "--and the ponytail? Mission desk?"

With a sigh, Kakashi nodded. "I know _who_ he is. I just didn't realize Genma knew him. It seems I'm to go on a mission with him later this week; surveillance."

Of all of the reactions possible, Kakashi never expected Genma's back to stiffen as he came to a complete stop in the middle of the busy sidewalk. Civilian pedestrians grumbled, but didn't bother the obvious ninja, instead opting to walk around, and Raidou yanked Genma off the main path and out of the way.

"Hey, Ma-kun, what's wrong?" Kakashi was perplexed, to say the least, and he hated that feeling. "Hey--"

"Kakashi, I want you to listen to me when I say these words. Hey, look at me! I want you to listen, and I want you to understand. _Iruka is not like us._ Get it?"

For all of his supposed genius--though Kakashi had never given credence to those rumors--the silver-haired man was stumped.

_...not like us..._

"Explain."

"I will, but later. Right now, just forget it. It's my birthday, remember? Let's have some fun and I'll explain everything when we get home. C'mon." The change of subject and pace were disconcerting, but Kakashi shrugged, taking the offered hand, and they started toward the bar once more.

All night, Genma's brain kept repeating the image of Kakashi and Iruka in his head. Alone on a mission together. It scared him. Iruka really _wasn't_ like them. He, too, had lost everything, everyone, but unlike Genma and his housemates, the tan chuunin had come out whole and mostly unscathed on the other side. It was the very reason Genma liked talking to him, because he was so very normal. But alone with Kakashi...that could be dangerous for the chuunin.

Especially with the Kakashi of late--the frowning Kakashi, with furrowed brows and lightless eye, who rarely spoke, and when he did, usually muttered something cutting or cynical. Most of all, he pushed himself too hard, too close to the breaking point. Genma knew his former lover too well to be fooled by the act he sometimes put on for Ko and Izumo.

He was always _Shi-chan_ in Genma's eyes, and death had a habit of following him around. It wasn't a name for Kakashi anymore, but the shadow that lurked just behind him, and he still used the name to remind his friend, to warn him. One day, he knew that the shadow would engulf the younger jounin, whisking him away from the world of the living, and Kakashi would likely welcome it with open arms.

It was a sobering thought, threatening to ruin Genma's his birthday. Instead, he forced a grin, made a mental note to talk to Kakashi about Iruka, and grabbed his lovers by the arms, yanking them from their barstools. Manhandling the two jounin, he dragged them toward the dance floor. Genma hadn't given up on Kakashi yet, and it was time to shed some light on the man's ever-present shadow.


	3. Only Memories

**Kakashi, 19, ANBU; Genma, 22, ANBU.**

At first, it was just the two of them:

Genma and Kakashi.

Rat and Hound.

A dual entry in the bingo books.

Inseparable.

When they bought the old house on the outskirts of Konoha--the two bedroom with the loft apartment, attached kitchen, and the extra long entry that always felt a little ominous in its severity--there were naturally whispers in the mission room. Neither took much notice, except to raise a brow at some of the more far-fetched conjectures.

"Who knew those two skirt-chasers really liked men, after all?"

"Oh, c'mon, they've been screwing for years."

"Really? Wow, guess I've been out of the loop."

"Hey, wait, wasn't that the house that belonged to--"

"Shh. _He'll_ hear you. Yeah, it is."

"Must've cleared out their savings!"

"But, isn't that too much space for just the two of them?"

"Two elites living in one house...might not be big _enough_..."

The house was just right.

Kakashi's meager belongings fit perfectly into his bedroom, each item tucked away into its proper place, hidden from view. From the world. A casual observer would only see what he wanted them to see: a desk, a chair, a wide bed with shuriken-print bedspread and only one pillow, a small bookshelf lined with Icha Icha novels.

There were only two personal items, and they rested above his bed on a small headboard shelf. The plant, he tended daily, pruning and watering and checking to a degree that even he agreed was obsessive. The other item, a framed photograph, was the constant reminder of what he'd done. The deaths tallied against his soul and his direct responsibility. Obito, Rin, sensei, himself. _All_ had died years before.

Still, he turned often to speak to the blond Hokage's image when his internal monologue became too much to bear. "Sensei, good morning."

Cold showers at strange hours.

Tending his plant.

The various insignificant acts became habit, a routine of carefully sculpted survival to keep his shell of a body alive, moving, killing for Konoha.

The construct of normalcy wasn't really necessary. Kakashi had died with Minato, sealed up with the fox in his bastard child, and his body needed only three things to survive: eat, fuck, win. Even sleep had become less important over the years, until he could go two weeks on catnaps and soldier pills so long as he didn't use the Sharingan.

In truth, aside from such mundane ritual acts, he rarely entered the room at all.

His orally fixated roommate was the complete opposite and, secretly, he wondered if that was part of the allure. Genma's room was a deathtrap of haphazardly stacked boxes of personal photographs and worn anatomy books. Crooked posters were tacked along the wall depicting sexual positions from ancient texts. A full-sized chart of the human body hung on the back of the door, one corner curling down, the illustration full of holes that passed straight through not only the poster, but the door itself. The result was a perplexing assortment of pinholes on the opposite side of the wood-paneled door. Genma called them his constellations; Kakashi called them abuse of a perfectly good house. Of course, the senbon-sucking jounin grinned at that before rolling his eyes and attributing it to Kakashi's unhealthy sense of order.

In fact, Genma often teased the Copy-nin about his spartan living conditions, leaving a dirty sock on the bedroom floor or a half-full coffee cup on the desk while Kakashi was out of the house. The _punishment_ he received was always worth the week of silence that preceded it. The silver-haired jounin would finally break down, whispering Genma's name across the room--Kakashi never raised his voice, he never yelled--shoving him to the floor, binding him, promising pain and fear and a good fucking, and then delivering in full measure.

For a few years, they made it work. Kakashi made it work.

He never bothered the other nin, instead reclining on the couch and reading _Icha Icha Paradise_, a nice distraction from the rest of his life. He'd listen to Genma playing his records and humming to himself as he relived the past--again--through the photographs he'd collected over the years.

When they screwed, he ensured Genma never had reason to complain. He was an attentive lover, giving everything to the other man, asking nothing in return, relishing the image of Genma's flushed features as he lay panting, sated and satisfied beneath him.

But, apparently, this was where he went wrong.

It was mid-July when Kakashi heard the strange news. One of the female ANBU he knew in passing bounced up to the Copy-nin on a street near the market, dragging him into an alley and demanding, "Is it truuue?!" He'd cocked an eyebrow at her, his visible eye drooping into a lazy expression of disinterest as he stared at her, waiting for an explanation of some sort. "Genma's quitting ANBU? Quitting full jounin, too, and going back to tokubetsu status...What? If _you_ don't know, Hatake-san, it must not be true."

Her shock only irritated him, and he glared at the impertinent woman before using a jutsu to instantly appear in his bedroom. _Was_ it true? Why didn't he know? He reached for the door knob, but paused when he heard a noise. At first, he thought he'd caught Genma beating off and smirked behind his mask. But, then, he was confused as a second set of panting, huffing moans joined his lover's. Genma wasn't alone.

He swallowed hard, blinking rapidly, trying to make sense of it. _Genma isn't alone?_

Applying every ounce of stealth he could muster, Kakashi sneaked into the hall and right up to Genma's bedroom door. He watched the way the light filtered out through the pinholes. The way it flickered and blurred as the two bodies within moved in front of the window. Genma's bed--_their_ bed--was in front of the window. Kakashi realized he was grinding his teeth, staring at the door, and stepped back with a small, nearly silent grunt. He leaned against the wall, listening, as Genma groaned, mumbling the other's name, gasping, "Fuck me! Rai, I'm gonna...I'm...ah...sh-shit...ahh!" The deep roar that followed was proof enough. _Raidou._

The room beyond the door had fallen silent. Kakashi watched it for a moment, eye tracing the constellations of light left by Genma's senbon, before realizing they would probably come out soon. He definitely didn't want to be there in the hallway, listening, his arousal straining against his pants and a sheen of sweat broken out across the small patch of exposed skin surrounding his eye. When they opened the door, he wanted to be as far away as he could.

He settled for the Hokage monument and appeared there without a second glance toward Genma's bedroom.

Two weeks later, neither Kakashi nor Genma had mentioned the supposed resignation from ANBU. It didn't seem to matter much.

In fact, nothing seemed to matter to Kakashi. Not Raidou and Genma. Not ANBU. He realized it one night while staring up into a cloudless, moonless sky over Sand. The apathy of his youth, the emptiness from which Genma had rescued him, was catching up.

He returned home to a cold, silent house. Sending Pakkun to investigate only confirmed what he...feared? suspected? _hoped._ Raidou had been there, more than once by the thickness of the scent. "And they mated here. Here. Over there...at least once in each place. Sorry, Kakashi."

"No, Pakkun, it's nothing." He didn't miss the askance, worried look he received from the small pug before the summon disappeared, and he smiled slightly behind the ANBU mask he was still wearing. Then, he watched himself go through the motions of returning from a mission. _Shower. Clothing. Plant. Sensei. Book._

Settling onto the couch with his book, Kakashi was surprised to find that he was glad. It meant that Genma was probably happy, now. He'd been trying for years to make Genma happy, and maybe he'd only managed to fool himself into thinking he had. If Raidou had been successful where Kakashi had failed, then maybe he was what Genma needed.

_It's nothing._ It would pass like everything else. He wasn't even upset, except for mild annoyance at the idea of being rejected. He honestly didn't care, and that scared him in ways he didn't want to consider just then, alone in the large house, so he shoved his nose deeper into the book and kept reading.

He didn't look up again until he heard Genma...and Raidou...stumble into the long foyer. They sounded drunk, giggling down the hall, slipping out of their shoes by kicking them off, snorting and laughing and carrying on. Raidou's deep timbre complemented Genma's higher pitch, their voices playing off one another and echoing in the empty corridor.

Kakashi allowed his chakra to flare, alerting them to his presence, assuring them he was no enemy. The laughter suddenly abated. A few shuffling noises later, Genma weaved into the living room in a gallant attempt to stay upright. Raidou stopped at the doorway, observing, and Kakashi could tell he wanted to remain unnoticed for as long as possible. "Hey, Raidou-san, come in."

The silver-haired jounin mentally smirked as the square-jawed, serious man sighed before taking a few steps, trying to control his body enough to walk normally. He mostly failed and flailed into an arm chair, smiling faintly at the Copy-nin. "Hello, Kakashi-senpai."

Genma dropped into the rocking chair with ratty cushions that he lovingly called his own. "When'd djou get home, Shhhi-chan?"

"This afternoon." Kakashi went back to reading his book.

"Reaaaaally?

Kakashi bit his tongue, closed the book, and placed it on the floor beside the couch. He sat up and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, looked directly at Genma, and pulled his mask down. It was a testament to Raidou's blood-alcohol level that he didn't gape; in truth, he barely seemed to notice.

Genma peered at him closely, and Kakashi focused on his lover's eyes. "Hey, Ma-kun?"

"Yeah..."

"How long have you been sleeping with Raidou-san?"

"Whaaa..."

"How long...have you...been slee ping...with Rai dou san?" He intoned quietly, emphasizing each syllable to pierce the haze glazing Genma's eyes.

"Oooh! But, Shi-chan, you dog! You aren't supposed to know. Cause it would hurt. You aren't supposed to..."

He stroked Genma's cheek; the stubble that never quite went away, even when he was newly shaven, scratched at pale fingertips, and Kakashi smiled. "Ma-kun, I know, but it doesn't hurt. It's okay. How long have you--"

"Six months." Raidou's contribution to the conversation was unexpected, but welcome. It was better that way, if they were both involved. And Raidou was obviously less drunk than Genma.

"That long?"

Raidou nodded into a slight bow. "I'm...sorry, senpai. It's just that..."

"Noooo. Let me, Rai...let me..." Genma stood up, tripped, and fell to the couch beside Kakashi, leaning his head on his lover's shoulder. "Kashi...Shi-chan...What we had was good...real good...but you...just go through the motions and...keep giving...never taking...can't ever know watchu think, ya know?"

Genma kissed Kakashi on the cheek.

"It's just fucking with you, Kakashi. And I...need more than 'just fucking' okay? I do. Can't be like that."

"Genma..."

"Can't be empty like you."

_Ah, there it is..._

_That_ hurt, because Genma was right. "Fuck. Raidou, will you move in with the poor bastard...both of us...already so he can stop pretending?" What the hell did he care? He didn't, either way.

Genma's eyes went wide and the comic way in which his gaze flitted between Kakashi and Raidou was enough to make the Copy-nin smile, so maybe it was worth it just for that. "Shiii-chan...are you shure?"

"Yes, of course." Kakashi waved off Genma's arm around his shoulder, standing and striding purposefully toward the door, turning once to nod and mutter "Raidou" at their guest before going to his room and shutting the door quietly. Not surprisingly, he was suddenly conscious that he'd been spending a lot of extra time in his room lately. It seemed that trend was likely to continue.

He lay in bed staring at the ceiling for a long while, mask still pooled around his neck, unavoidably eavesdropping on the two men in the other room as they chuckled and talked until the laughter gave way to panting and moaning.

Kakashi listened to his lover drunkenly fuck another man in the living room of his own house.

He was ashamed when his own panting was added to theirs, but it was too late to regret. He shoved his pants down his hips, a shock of excitement running down his spine as he squirmed and struggled to release his straining erection. One hand grasped it, roughly stroking in time with the thumping he could hear through the wall. Ripping off his hitai-ate and tossing it onto the floor, he reached through his memory, imagining it was a tan, blond man touching him--_"Sensei! A-ahh!"_--grazing his nipples one after another, sliding his hand across his balls, hips, stomach, chest. His eyes shut tight as the pressure between his hips grew heavy and full and desperate, and he realized the low, mewling whine that filled his ears was his own as he came, hard, straining and desolate, emptying himself and all he _didn't_ feel onto the blanket beside him.

**Kakashi, 22, ANBU; Genma, 25, Tokubetsu/Special Jounin.**

**Three years later.**

Reclined on the sofa as he was, Kakashi didn't even jump when the serene atmosphere of his first day off in weeks was broken.

"Izu!"

Izumo came bounding down the stairs from the loft apartment immediately followed by Kotetsu, who smacked him in the back of the head. "Izumo! What the fuck?!"

"But you said--"

"I said it'd be nice to wake up to morning sex! Not wake up to you already fucking me!"

"But I--"

"We may live together, but it doesn't give you the right to fucking rape me in my fucking sleep!"

Izumo stared at his lover for a moment, dangerously close to smiling at the unfortunate word choice. Instead, he stammered, "But--but--dammit--I--"

Kakashi leveled a glare at the two who stood halfway down the stairs. Kotetsu had cut the other chuunin's words off by smashing Izumo against the banister with a wanton whimper that seemed to negate his previous complaint. Of course, it was to be expected. In fact, Kakashi was sure it was roughly an hour until lunch and "hmph'd" at their predictability. Shinobi shouldn't fall into patterns like that. It could be dangerous.

With an annoyed grunt, he turned back to _Icha Icha Paradise_, hunched his shoulders, and wriggled deeper into the plush new couch.

When the noises behind him began interfering with his reading, he decided he'd had enough for once. Calmly standing and dropping the bright orange book onto a table, he mounted the stairs two at a time, and the two chuunin had only barely a second to realize what was happening before he ripped them apart from one another. Kakashi shoved his tongue as deeply as he could into Kotetsu's warm, compliant mouth, then turned to lick a wet trail from Izumo's collar bone to his sensitive left temple. Pulling away, he shot them both a serious look and stomped back down the stairs.

The jounin flopped onto the couch, took up his book, and began again, very much aware that the chuunin were watching him intently…like jackals. Deciding whether or not it would be safe to pounce. Luckily--for _them_--Raidou called from the kitchen, summoning them to an early lunch, and Kakashi rolled his eyes, never turning away from the pages in front of him.

They were like children. Kakashi didn't like children.

Still, they were also highly entertaining most of the time, between Izumo's sarcastic humor and Kotetsu's fierce indignation, and damn good lays. He chuckled at the memory of the last time he'd joined them upstairs in their loft apartment.

In the four months since they'd moved in, Kakashi had found his days off lacked their past, lazy pace, but after all of his own complaints and grumbling, he was well aware that he smiled more often when they were around.

**Kakashi, 23, ANBU; Genma, 25, Tokubetsu/Special Jounin.**

**Six months later.**

"Yo, Genma! We're all outta beer!" Raidou yelled to his lover. Genma had disappeared to the kitchen minutes before and suddenly reappeared with a huge clear bottle in hand, the contents sloshing as he rejoined the group.

"Sake!"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Shit. Gimme your glass." Izumo held it out and Genma dumped enough sake for two or three, hoping to get some into the glass in the process.

"Dammit, that was my back!" _Slop._ The sound of Raidou's shirt smacking into the wall, sopping wet with sake, was a squishy slap that sent Izumo and Kotetsu into drunken giggles. This, in turn, made Kakashi grin. He wasn't wearing his mask or hitai-ate, and everyone in the room turned to look at him in astonishment--except Genma, who wasn't astonished at all and, instead, slowly turned to appreciate the sight. But, then, he knew the lines of Kakashi's face better than anyone.

"Kashi, yer so pretty when you smile..." Izumo, already slurring his words, reached out to stroke Kakashi's cheek, and the smile fell. "Noooo, Kashi! Bring it back!"

The Copy-nin rolled his eyes as Kotetsu joined his lover, singing, "Bring it back! Bring it back!" Without much goading, Raidou joined in as well. Genma just observed, knowing full well how rare such a smile could be. The entire time they were lovers, before Raidou--he did a quick calculation in his head-- he only saw that smile without the mask three times in nine years.

Izumo was right. It was a beautiful thing to witness because, unlike Kakashi's wry smile, his crazy smile, his scheming smile, his angry smile...this one was reflected in the ANBU's eye, in his posture and the way the worry lines faded from his forehead. It was the only genuine expression the man could make.

"Hey," Genma called, absently running his hand over Raidou's now bare back as Raidou sat at his feet, leaned casually against his leg. "Come sit, Kakashi." With a wink, Kakashi complied, sitting with knees pulled up to his chest, draped bodily onto the leg opposite Raidou. "Take your shirt off." He did as he was told and felt Genma's hand tracing the lines of his back. Agile fingers threaded up into the hair at the nape of his neck, then slipped down the curve of his spine to tease at the hem of his boxer shorts. The movement continued, repeating the circuit, and Kakashi closed his eyes, relishing the contact.

When he was sure his two jounin were completely subdued, Genma glanced at the pair across the room, motioning with his head for Kotetsu and Izumo to join the huddled group. He kept rubbing the jounin's backs as Kotetsu stepped between them to stand just in front of Genma's chair. The dark haired chuunin leaned forward, hovering a moment before kissing Genma, slipping his tongue in almost immediately, licking and sucking and finally relinquishing control. Genma hummed into the kiss and traced his nails down the jounin's backs.

Izumo came from behind to nibble at his throat, planting kisses along his collar bone and tasting the triangular dip where his neck and shoulder met. A shiver shot down Genma's spine as Kotetsu shoved a hand into his boxers, pulling them down in the front to expose Genma's already dripping erection. He used every ounce of control to keep himself from bucking his hips as Kotetsu knelt between his legs and licked the clear droplet from the swollen head of his penis and swirled his tongue around the edge. Without warning, he pressed down, taking Genma in, his nose brushing at pubic hair and just bumping the mound of flesh at the hilt. Genma couldn't help it as his hips clenched, fucking into Kotetsu's warm, slick mouth and whimpering beneath the pair's ministrations.

An answering whimper from Rai reminded him that he'd forgotten the jounin, cruelly leaving them to listen but not participate. He smiled, thinking of Raidou's straining cock, tight in his boxers and desperate for relief. Raidou whimpered again and started to stand, but Genma hissed, "Stay!" and he settled again beside Genma's leg. When Rai reached to touch himself, to free his erection on his own, Genma stopped him again, muttering, "Kashi, touch Kashi..."

And then Genma forgot them again, sinking into the pleasure of Kotetsu's mouth lapping at his cock, Izumo's hands on his body, wrapped around his torso. Rough fingers twisted against a nipple once, then again, before slipping down to rest on the muscles below his navel, gently ghosting across the acutely sensitive skin. They were bringing him to the edge and, with hitching breath, Genma willingly fell to their seduction.

But without warning, Izumo disappeared, his hands sliding away reluctantly. Genma whined at the loss of contact before Izumo reappear behind Kotetsu.

Making quick work of removing his lover's pants and grinning when he realized Kotetsu hadn't worn boxers, Izumo sank his teeth slowly into the molded flesh of the other man's backside. His teeth made their way across the man's skin to the slit at the center and he tugged the flesh apart, flicking his tongue tentatively inside to lap against Kotetsu's entrance. A shudder ran through Kotetsu as the strong muscle worked on him, as it pressed into the hot warmth of his hole. When teeth grazed the tight, sensitive flesh, he jumped, shoving his head down onto Genma's cock. "I'm...yeah...fuck...I'm gonna..." Kotetsu pulled away just as Genma came, the hot white liquid spilling over the nest of auburn curls surrounding the shaft. Genma grinned drunkenly down at the chuunin and patted him on the spiky head, leaning back in his chair to watch the others. Izumo had already started preparing Kotetsu, and Kakashi and Raidou...

Genma's mouth went dry, gaping at the vision he found before him. Both of his lovers were naked on hands and knees, Kakashi already buried deep within Raidou, pumping his pale muscles to slam down into the other. They were beautiful together, a fine machine of human flesh, beating out a rhythm of desperation. Raidou groaned, building to a yell, arching his back and trembling as he came. His hands clenched into fists, and he leaned down on shuddering elbows to give Kakashi better access. The silver-haired man drove deep and closed his eyes, meeting his release in silence, as he always did, jaw locked tightly closed. He collapsed onto Raidou, gracelessly rolling over onto his back.

With shallow breath, he watched them panting and trembling, and knew they were his, at least for a little while longer. He loved them both just then, more than he'd ever dare admit.

On the opposite side of his chair, Kotetsu and Izumo had set a slower pace. Each knew the other's body like his own, and it only took a minute for them to moan and grunt simultaneously, unashamedly mumbling _"I love you"_s and climaxing together before their audience. Genma took it all in from his seat above the others, admiring the planes of their chests and backs, shinobi bodies honed by war and rigorous self-discipline.

When he started getting sentimental, he wondered if it was the wine, the beer, the sake. He swiped at his eye, dragging a tear away with his fingers. He always got a little teary when he drank like this. _Damned alcohol._ The panting had fallen to a slow deep calm that penetrated the edges of the room, sealing it off from the outside world. Together, in their house on the outskirts of town, they weren't shinobi. They weren't anything...except _real_ and _human_. It was Chance that had brought the five of them together, and Genma wondered how long it would last. Somewhere in the back of his exhausted mind, he knew they all needed this release, this grounding, as they needed each other.

**Kakashi, 24, ANBU; Genma, 27, Tokubetsu/Special Jounin.**

**Two years later.**

It was just another nightmare about _that_ day.

_What is that smell?_

Like...something burnt_._

Like charred flesh.

Like Raidou's skin bubbling and melting away...

Genma sat bolt upright in bed trembling and covered in sticky sweat. _Eh, not just sweat._

He grimaced, trying to remember the night before. He and Rai each had a week off. They'd bought a bottle of sake, stumbled in at gods knew what hour...Kakashi had intercepted them in the hall..._Did we...with Kakashi?_ He knew the answer without thinking. Kakashi hadn't been with them last night, else Genma wouldn't be waking up with the evidence of their revelry plastered across his midsection. Kakashi was too polite, too attentive to fall over next to him, panting in the dark, tracing symbols on his chest before they passed out due to alcohol or exertion. Kakashi would have cleaned them up, made the bed...

Not that Genma minded, of course. But, even after all of their years together, Kakashi was the same. His eyes never flashed with lust or longing. He never lost control or let loose a howl as he came. If he didn't know better, Genma would wonder if Kakashi even let his guard down enough to come at all. He knew he did, but only after his partner had been sated, only after he'd performed his _duty_ for the other person. _Like it's some kind of mission._

A shadow passed the constellations of pinholes in the closed door, and Genma reached out to touch the chakra moving by. "Shi-chan!" Pause. Shuffle. The click of the door opening as Kakashi stuck his silvery head into the room. Genma was vaguely aware that the bedroom was musky with sweat and sex, but he didn't really care. Kakashi wouldn't, either. "Close the door and c'm'ere."

With a sigh, the Copy-nin slouched into the room, orange book in one hand, mask down, a very tired look in his dark eyes. He'd been returning from a mission the night before._ Looks like he didn't get much sleep._ When he reached the bed, he dropped to sit beside Genma, who was shrouded about the waist in an old gray sheet.

He eyed him expectantly, and Genma realized this wasn't the conversation he wanted to have while naked behind a closed door with Kakashi. _Shit. No time like the present, I guess._

"Shi-chan, I gotta know…are you happy with your life?"

"What the hell kind of question is that?" He started to stand.

"Wait, what I mean is what do _you_ get outta all of this? We all care about you, and you'll always have a place in our bed, same with Ko and Izumo; you know that. But, really, why do you do it?"

Kakashi raised an inquisitive brow and Genma tried a different approach. "When did you start having mission sex?" The mismatched expression hardened, but Kakashi said nothing. "When did you start having _normal_ sex?" No reaction.

_Was it **always** mission sex...?_

After a long silence, Genma sighed loudly and flopped back onto his pillow. "That's what I thought. Kakashi, you better find someone permanent. An anchor you can count on to--"

Eyes dangerously narrowed, Kakashi peered at the other from beneath his fringe of silvery hair. "I only love one person." He ducked as Genma sat up in bed and took a swing at his head.

"Godammit, Kakashi! He's dead! Is that what this is all about? Still?? After all these years, you're still pining for the fucking Hokage? I mean...Gods! That's it. Move...move, Kakashi...let me up!" But Kakashi was holding him down with both hands planted firmly on his chest.

"Ma-kun…you're right, it was never about love. I-I'm sorry. I wanted to, but...sex is...The books, the sex...how do you think it is that I haven't broken down on a mission and taken out one of my own teammates? Housemates? Whatever. It was never love. Not even with you."

The tokubetsu jounin relaxed on the pillows as the strong hands lifted off his chest. Kakashi rubbed his eyes and pulled his mask up over his jaw. As he rose to leave, Genma reached out and snagged his hand. He whispered, "Hey..."

"Hm."

"You know, it's wrong, Kakashi. There _should_ be _something_ more to it..."

"Yeah, I always thought so, too." And then he was gone.

Genma grabbed Raidou's pillow and wrapped his arms and legs around it, drowning in the scent of his lover, his love. In the privacy of their bedroom, he took a few shuddering breaths, working past the tears that had threatened to overflow minutes before, when he'd first realized Kakashi had _never_ felt the way he did.

_Was always chasing a ghost._


	4. Only to Fall

Character death, angst, tragedy all around. Kyuubi...

* * *

**Minato, 25-27, jounin; Kakashi, 15, ANBU**

_I'm damned...damned...damned..._

He stroked a finger through the silver hair tickling his chin and planted another kiss on the head below him. Even the gentlest pressure from Kakashi's body as it fitted against his threatened to crush him even as it comforted, and he drank in the boy's heat.

_I'm damned._

His next breath stalled as Kakashi rolled over to face him, resting his cheek against his sensei's chest, an arm over his torso. Minato closed his eyes, memorizing the feel of Kakashi holding him. It was too much. Everything was going to spill over...if he didn't...

He pulled the boy closer, staring down at the bundle in his arms, and wondered at Kakashi's scarred face and lean body. He'd been watching him for years and had jumped at the opportunity to be his teacher. He'd seen so much potential in the waifish boy and his big eyes. Eyes that weren't wide with naiveté, but perception.

And yet, Kakashi's superior perception hadn't caught the way his sensei watched him lately during their missions together, sitting alone in the dark long after Kakashi had fallen asleep. He hadn't seen the tears Minato shed in the privacy of his apartment minutes after hanging up the phone, again angering his father by refusing to marry Kushina-san. Kakashi was oblivious of the dreams, dreams that promised more than longing and loneliness.

He buried his nose in the boy's hair and pulled him closer, smiling as he felt Kakashi's cradled head nuzzle into his chest. He loved him, the strange demon child who had changed before his eyes. Kakashi was nearly a man.

_But I'm damned._

The thought was persistent. It rooted through Minato to his core and wriggled painfully in his head. He was damned, and maybe he had damned Kakashi, as well.

When he'd seen him sitting across the fire, features lit by the flickering glow, softened by the light, and rendered more human, more approachable, he could not resist. He couldn't look away from the pouty lips and the elegant curve of Kakashi's masked jaw lit by the clinging light of the flames. It was their final night before they made it back to the village. Their last mission together if Sandaime-sama got his way with the council, and he always did, eventually. It was their last anything as sensei and student, teammates, friends. Soon, Minato would be Hokage, and Kakashi, one of his ANBU.

Kakashi had left the fire in silence, and when Minato saw his last chance slipping away, he willed the world to stop, time to stop...and he went to him. In the dark. In silence. In the knowledge that, whatever happened, it could change them both, forever. If Kakashi wanted him, as he believed the boy did, Minato would refuse the title of Hokage. He would renounce everything he'd ever held dear to hear Kakashi whisper his name in the dark every night, to taste him and hold him.

_I'm...damned..._

From the darker depths of his mind surfaced the unbidden, lurking truth: he would leave the village if it came down to it, taking Kakashi and vanishing as wraiths into the night. He was _the_ Yellow Flash. He could outrun the hunter nin and they could be out of Fire Country in two days if they pushed themselves. The countryside of Tea would make a nice change, and maybe they could buy a farm and work the soil. They could give back to the world of life, after sending so many to their deaths.

He chuckled at that. The idea of Kakashi as a farmer and himself in a straw hat and brown yukata, scrambling after ill-behaved chickens. It was ridiculous.

Kakashi was a weapon of the Hokage. Minato would _be_ that Hokage. And if they left, the hunter nin would never stop. There would be no farm, no chickens, no crops. Only trials if they were lucky, and then death.

He was uncertain as to whether deserting the village or dying beside Kakashi should upset him more. The way his mind lingered on the betrayal decided it, and he murmured into Kakashi's hair, "Damned."

Damned because he couldn't keep Kakashi. ANBU protected and served the Hokage. They didn't sleep with him. Even after they'd made love, it was impossible. He'd known this before they left on their mission, yet he had conveniently forgotten as soon as they were out the gates.

His chest ached at such thoughts, but Minato knew he should get used to that if he was really going to accept the appointment to Hokage. And if the council agreed, he knew he would. It was inevitable.

He hmm-ed through his teeth and shifted closer to Kakashi. Closing his eyes just for a moment with every intention of only resting, legs tangled intimately in the boy's, he drifted seamlessly into sleep.

A silent shadow he had been too distracted to notice reclining in the trees pulled a senbon from its mouth, hiding it carefully in its pack, and pulled down an ANBU mask before starting back to Konoha at a dead run.

* * *

When next Minato opened his eyes, he found the sun just peeking over the horizon. With a sigh and a smile, he recognized where he was, who it was lying against him, what they had _done_ the night before, and fought the urge to snuggle back into the blankets and fall back to sleep. It was too tempting. He grunted with effort and the stiffness of his joints, climbing out of Kakashi's bedroll as gently as he could and rolling the boy to the side. He covered him with his blanket, but the loss of body heat caused a whimper from the suddenly child-like teenager.

He shook his head at the sight. _Damned._

But he couldn't stop smiling, grinning, beaming. This was his. _He_ had tamed the demons in Kakashi, and _he_ was responsible for the boy's calm, dreamless sleep. And in the morning sun, the situation didn't seem so bleak. If he was Hokage, who would stop him from seeing Kakashi? No one _could_. Humming to himself, Minato gathered firewood. He picked off two of a covey of quail, spitted them, and set them to roasting. Then, he waited, half-heartedly poking at the fire; Kakashi would wake soon.

As if on cue, Kakashi's eye fluttered open and he sat up shakily.

Minato's smile faltered when he met the dark gaze, relentlessly hard and perceptive as ever. The silver-haired boy seemed to see into the very core of himself, but there was no warmth in the eye for him. It hurt more than he had right to admit, and he crossed the circle quickly, kneeling down in front of the teenager. "Good morning, Kashi-kun." He caressed the side of Kakashi's face, cupping his cheek and offering another smile, but the boy remained unmoved.

Minato forced his smile yet brighter and gently asked, "Are you okay? I mean, _okay_ okay?"

Still, Kakashi barely reacted. His voice was flat when he finally answered, "I'm fine," and Minato didn't dare acknowledge the suspected hint of disgust detected beneath the words. The sterility of the reply forced him back across the circle. He chewed his bottom lip, ruminating, attentively ignoring Kakashi as the boy changed clothes, ate, and cleaned up. What could he say? His mind was already in a panic, repeatedly reevaluating his thoughts and actions in the last twelve hours, searching for some offense he could make right, a way to fix whatever he had broken.

He thought he'd made him understand. He loved him. But Kakashi acted almost as if nothing had happened.

Without a word between them, the pair departed for the village, their mutual silence growing heavier by the second.

When they reached the gate just past midday, Minato didn't expect Kakashi's sudden departure. The boy glared at him as they crossed the threshold and then shot off across the rooftops. "Kakashi! Wait!" His confused mind lingered somewhere between shock and anger. "Kakashi!"

_What the hell did I do?_

Of course, he knew the answer. He was damned, and this was just the beginning.

With a huff, he shook his head, shrugging at the gate guards before making his way slowly through the wide avenues of Konoha. The sun overhead mocked him in its brightness. The passersby smiled and greeted him by name, but all he could hear was Kakashi's single, gasped cry in the night. Was it the only time he'd ever called him _Minato_? If not, it was certainly the only one he would remember. His head was filled with the sound of the sultry tone as it tumbled

through the boy's lips and teeth and filled the night around them. Even the bright day couldn't dispel it as he remembered the feel of Kakashi's warm body beneath him.

With a start, Minato realized he was standing in front of the administrative building, his feet having taken over while his mind drifted. He nodded, climbing the stairs two at a time, not even pausing to acknowledge the ANBU stationed outside the Hokage's office.

However, as he approached the door, it opened before him and a wiry-looking, masked ANBU member came strolling out. His suddenly stiff posture upon seeing the blond betrayed both his surprise and his rookie status, and Minato could only wonder if he really looked _that bad_ as the nin hurried away at a clipped pace. He had felt oddly familiar, but he couldn't place the chakra signature as it was too well disguised.

In any case, there were more pressing things just then.

He closed the door behind him and walked purposefully into the Hokage's office, falling into a chair across from Sandaime and sinking into the cushion, closing his eyes and letting his head loll over the back.

After a few minutes of silence, the older man cleared his throat. "So, you've returned." The fatigue in his voice was undeniable.

Minato didn't move look at the man; just kept staring at the planked, vaulted ceiling. "Yes, it was a successful mission." At some subconscious level, he marveled at the obvious kunai gash in the surface of the planks. Otherwise, he kept his mind blank, not thinking about promotions or his silver-haired student. Yet, somehow, the boy still managed to insinuate himself into his thoughts.

Squeezing his eyes more tightly closed to dispel the image of Kakashi's flushed, panting face, he sat up to look at his mentor. The Hokage was gazing at him strangely. Sharp, piercing eyes seemed to look directly through him. Into him. Sandaime was not unlike a predator eyeing his prey, and Minato sank a little deeper into his chair under the painful gaze.

"A success? So I've heard." The cryptic hardness of the reply caught Minato's attention immediately. For the second time that day, he wracked his mind for anything he'd done wrong.

"Is everything alright, Sandaime-sama?"

"Minato..." His tone was that of a haggard parent worried for his wayward offspring. It was endearing, but put the blond on his guard. "He's only a child."

_Oh._ His eyes frantically darted around the room, anywhere but the Hokage's livid expression which only served to punctuate the guilt that had started niggling at his insides. Kakashi was obviously upset by the events of the night before. _Otherwise he would have come with me. And now Sandaime knows, as well...but how!_

"Don't try to work it out. I have my means, and you know it."

_The Shiranui kid? He was trailing me for a few weeks, back before we left, but I haven't seen...In the forest! I knew something felt wrong; just for a second, I thought..._

"He's only a boy, Minato. And what you did..." The old man scrubbed a hand over his face and sighed deeply. "You cannot allow a relationship to manifest between you and Kakashi. The council barely approved of you, as it is, and--"

"Th-They approved my appointment?" He didn't dare breathe.

"Yes; tentatively. There were concerns that you are too young, unmarried, ungrounded. They fear you are a risk, and you won't take the position seriously, that you might jeopardize the well-being of the village."

Minato jumped to his feet in his excitement and leaned over the desk. "But you told them, right? I'd give my life a thousand times over for this village!" He inwardly cursed the guilty blush that rose to his cheeks. Earlier thoughts of running away with Kakashi played through his mind.

The Sandaime was as sharp and wise as ever, disturbingly so. With raised eyebrows, he nodded and continued, futilely motioning Minato to sit. "But I guarantee they won't approve of your...closeness to the boy. The scene Orochimaru made when he was denied the appointment has their patience wearing thin, and they aren't likely to be very understanding or lenient."

"I haven't done anything wrong." It was a challenge, daring the Hokage to declare otherwise. Minato still stood before the man, eyes locked on his mentor, his sensei's sensei.

A sad smile tugged at the Hokage's lips before vanishing into a frown. "He may be of legal age—'a technicality' is what they will say--but, traditionally, fifteen is still far too young."

"But, I...Sandaime-sama, I..."

"There are other concerns. Your apparent lack of interest in the opposite sex, for instance. They worry that you are _abnormal_ in other ways, as well. You confuse them."

At the word "abnormal," Minato had taken to glaring at the floor. Words eluded him. It was obvious Sandaime had known for quite some time how he felt, and now he knew what he'd _done_ as well. With a sigh, he opened his mouth, hoping the words that came out wouldn't be too damaging. "I…hn…I love him, Hokage-sama." It wasn't what he'd expected.

Sandaime didn't let the information faze him, as if this, too, was common knowledge. "That's of no consequence." When Minato's went rigid at the words, the older man's expression softened. "Please understand. You're going to be Hokage. It is a life of sacrifice, not prestige. In this case, you have a choice: the village or Kakashi. I cannot say that it is fair, but fairness has never had much of a hand in any of it."

Minato dropped back into his chair and rested his head in his hands, elbows balanced on shaky

knees. The older man shifted in his chair, reaching down into his pouch for more tobacco and dropping a pinch into the end of his pipe. As he lit the herbs, the young jounin took in the sweet, dark scent. The smell always reminded him of the Hatake house, of evenings spent with Sandaime, Jiraiya, and Hatake-san, listening to their tales of days gone by.

Kakashi used to climb onto his back--_He must have been four or five._--and kick him in the sides, urging the blond teenager to gallop around the yard. The thought of Kakashi brought him back to the present, however, and the deep ache invading his chest.

A puff of smoke unfurled itself across his lap and the Sandaime's voice rolled with it. "_You_ may not know it yet, but I know what you will choose. You are a man of duty and honor, Minato, and I trust you to make the right decision."

The Hokage stood slowly and carried his pipe to stand on the balcony outside. Minato could hear the sounds of the village--his village--and agreed with Sandaime: he was a man of duty.

With a bitter chuckle, the blond murmured, "Besides, seems Kakashi already decided for me." _He'd_ been the one abandoned at the gate, after all. And while he recognized the childish petulance of the thought, he reached for it anyway, grabbing on and making it his mantra. _He_ had been _abandoned_ by _Kakashi_, and the boy had made it clear that he wanted nothing to do with him. Minato repeated it until he believed it, making it true in every fiber of his being.

Sighing before standing, swiping at phantom tears, he joined Sandaime on the balcony. "Alright. Of course. The village comes first. It is the duty of every shinobi."

The older man's melancholy smile did nothing to unfreeze the icy sheet descending over Minato's heart as the words left his mouth. The warmth of the night before, when he'd thought Kakashi returned his love, had given way to well-honed self-preservation, and alien coldness permeated the usually genial blond.

Minato found himself abruptly overtaken by fatigue and wondered detachedly how his love for the boy had buoyed him for so long.

As he turned to thread his way back through the office and out the door, the Hokage hummed in prelude to his next words. Even the Hokage couldn't see the fresh cracks opened wide by Kakashi's secret rejection, but Sandaime knew what he had to say next would break Minato. For the village, it was necessary. "I should have split you up long ago, when your team..." He paused, omitting the obvious meaning. "As Hokage, I must forbid you from seeing the boy. The ANBU guards outside will be informed. Any questionable behavior in the next, crucial weeks could change their minds. Stay away from Kakashi." The Sandaime Hokage turned to stare out the window, unable to confront the impact of his words. "You know it is for the best."

Minato was still facing away from the Hokage. Fists clenched at his sides. Teeth chewing on a bothered, ragged lip. When his body began to tremble and the first tear fell, he exaggerated his nod and disappeared in a puff of smoke and leaves.

Namikaze Minato would do anything his village asked of him.

_I'm damned._

* * *

"Yes, Father. Allergic to octopus. Of course. Yes. As you wish." The soft sound of the telephone being replaced in its receiver was deceptively gentle. Minato stood perfectly still in his empty apartment. He couldn't move or breathe, instead silently observing the pieces of the life he'd known until that moment fall away around him.

He had finally given in to his parents' insistence that he marry Kushina-san.

In fact, _he_ had called. _He_ had asked his father to start the process.

The refrigerator kicked on. Someone upstairs flushed a toilet. A door slammed nearby. Birdsong trilled at the window.

And, finally, Minato breathed—an irregular, shallow breath that did nothing to calm his mind. He reminded himself that he had time. It would take one year to complete the arrangements; such was the wealth and prestige of the houses of Namikaze and Uzumaki. It only complicated things that both were the sole heirs of their respective estates, carrying the responsibility of continuing the family lines.

The council would see him differently now, as a man with a future, putting down roots in the village. Sandaime-sama had agreed it was the best course of action. Minato sighed.

Flopping down onto his bed, blond hair flipped down over his eyes, he winced as a single thought of Kakashi slipped through his defenses. _Two weeks...seems like two lifetimes._ He wondered what the boy was doing, but stopped short when his deviant subconscious tried to convince him to go and find him. The boy probably didn't want to see him. At least, Minato hoped that was the case. The thought of Kakashi lying in bed, staring at the ceiling and wondering what _he_ was doing...it didn't suit the boy at all.

Rolling over onto his stomach, Minato closed his eyes. At the edge of sleep, his mind grasped at half-remembered dreams and memories long forgotten, all concerning a certain silver-haired teenager.

* * *

He took one last look in the mirror. The gaunt face staring back at him—flat, sunken blue eyes and peaked skin--wasn't one he would have recognized.

_Not before..._

Minato shrugged and blew a spike of blond hair out of his eyes. He smiled at his reflection, noting that the warmth only touched upon his lips and never came close to reaching his eyes. The new white coat of his office hung limply across broad shoulders, his pointed lack of emotion in complete opposition to the bright red flames. It suited him well, and even he had to admit that he looked a bit more regal and _Hokage-like_ in the outfit. Not that he would ever admit that to Jiraiya, who had suggested the ludicrous pattern when they were getting him fitted. His sensei had even mumbled, "Girls will love it."

He didn't want _girls_ to love it.

He rolled his eyes and clamped his jaw tightly shut to smother any sort of reaction his treacherous inner-voice was preparing to conjure. With a nod to himself, he flipped off the light, scooped up a small bundle of yellow roses, and headed out the door.

It was a night bathed in moonlight, and Konoha shone before him in all the clarity of monochrome. It called up memories of another night. In a forest. When--

_Wrong. Stop right there._ He couldn't let that train of thought continue. It was dangerous. It went against every promise he had made to Sandaime, to the village, to himself. _Duty_ pulsed at the core of his being. He bit his lip to numb the pain.

The first week apart from Kakashi had been unbearable. The second, miserable. The third, very lonely. In the six weeks since they...since their last mission, Kakashi had not once tried to visit him even though he'd felt the boy's presence near the administrative building—near his office—a number of times. He'd even considered ordering him inside once or twice, but couldn't bring himself to force his former stucent to see him. Kakashi hadn't tried to contact him in any way, and Minato used his absence as a salve, a means of propping himself up. An excuse.

He told himself that Kakashi's indifference proved it had meant nothing. That should be enough. _After all, he's only fifteen-years-old._

After six weeks, he considered that he might finally believe it, just a bit. And yet, still, some piece of him insisted that this was _wrong_. This _charade_.

_knock-knock-knock_

The girl who answered the door was exactly as he remembered her. Scarlet hair and moss-colored eyes held his gaze for an instant before a bright blush spread across her cheeks, and she turned to look demurely at the ground. "Hokage-sama."

"Really, Kushina-san, is it going to be like that? Very well, then...Kushina-_hime_..."

The girl, Kushina, leveled a glare at the blond that clearly said, "Ha, ha, very funny, usuratonkachi." He couldn't help the small grin that surfaced. The ice broken, he handed her the

roses. She smiled when he pulled them out from behind his back, but her expression fell when the meaning made itself clear. Yellow roses. Friendship. "Minato-san, I..."

"I'm sorry. I didn't want to promise something I couldn't give, and I didn't want to present you with false assumptions. We can be friends, right? And then, we'll see." The smile he'd practiced in the mirror paid-off because she smiled back, taking his arm. He asked, "Shall we?"

She nodded in agreement.

Kushina walked through Konoha on the arm of the tall, blond Hokage. She was practically beaming with pride. Stealing surreptitious glances as they walked, She ignored the blatant discomfort that played across the man's features--whatever his feelings, he was finally hers. He had agreed to marry her and made a promise on his family name, and, while an arranged marriage wasn't the ideal, of course, Kushina was willing to make the best of it. With time, she knew he would come to love her as her parents had come to love one another after their own joining.

_These things just have a way of sorting themselves out, after all,_ she mused.

* * *

Two hours later, seated on a barstool beside a decidedly drunken Hokage, she was beginning to doubt it as he went on about someone named Kakashi and some great wrong he had done this person. He seemed unhealthily obsessed.

* * *

An hour after that, she found herself dragging him up the walk to her apartment--not completely sober herself--through the door, and onto the couch. Toppling to the cushions, Minato dragged Kushina down, as well, giggling in his inebriation. She giggled too, thoroughly entertained by his antics and only vaguely wondering what her parents would say if they knew she'd brought him home. But her parents weren't in Konoha. They were still in Uzumakagakure, and Minato was splayed across her couch and grinning like a fool, the first sincere smile she'd seen all night. She caught his eyes with her own, licked her lips, and dipped forward, pressing her mouth to his.

At first, Minato didn't respond. In truth, he was frozen to the spot, suddenly very aware of her hips pressed against his and her lips and tongue attempting to force him into a kiss. Then, his body started reacting on its own and he gasped, opening his mouth slightly, too shocked to pull away as her tongue darted inside. He was sure he must taste of whiskey or beer or any number of foul drinks he'd consumed that night. He wondered what she was thinking. What did she expect of him?

When she pulled back, both gasping for breath and control, Minato stared at her, running his

fingers through the end of her soft, red locks. Kushina was pretty, he admitted reluctantly, and kind. She smiled easily and without a hint of guile.

_...damned..._

He knew for certain she was what he _should_ want. Sandaime would agree; Jiraiya-sensei and Tsunade-san, as well. His parents were thrilled that he was finally accepting his_responsibility_, a word they bandied about as if becoming Hokage were nothing compared to continuing the clan line. Even the council was mollified for the time being.

But she _wasn't_ what he wanted.

When her mouth found his again, he kissed her back, bruising their lips as his hand on the back of her head pulled her down. Everything inside of him screamed for Kakashi.

He heard his physical voice whisper, "Do you...want me to..." even as his brain tried to stop the words from forming.

Tears came to his eyes, and he assured her it was just the alcohol.

* * *

It was three months before he saw her again.

He knew the marriage arrangements were progressing because his mother sent him little notes now and then detailing this or that negotiation point at which his father had, undoubtedly, been marvelous in attaining. He paid them little heed.

For Minato, it was perfunctory noise at the fringe and unimportant within the reality of his life.

The war with Rock had not abated, and while he longed to help-out on the frontlines, he was relegated to planning strategy and sending other nin to die in combat. He understood, now, the sacrifice Sandaime had so often referred to of late. With every squad he sent to war, he sent a small piece of himself along with them.

On a small scratch sheet of paper tucked within his desk, he kept a list of Kakashi's destinations. A secret part of his mind hoped the boy still carried the special kunai he had given him, just in case he had to find the boy and bring him back. It was one mission they would not be able to keep the Hokage from fulfilling.

Aside from dealing with the ongoing war, he spent his mornings in useless meetings with bureaucrats. His afternoons were lost to filing paperwork, signing requisition orders, and staring out the windows of his office, thinking.

It was one such afternoon when there came a faint knock. As the word "enter" left his mouth, the

doors flew open to reveal his betrothed standing in the doorway. Kushina paused for a moment, frowning and staring, before slamming the doors shut and sitting down. "Hello, Minato-kun."

"Kushina-san?" He adopted a slightly more formal tone, in contrast with hers, wary of her eyes flashing with upset even as she smiled with her mouth. "Is there something I can do for you, Kushina-san?"

"Yes. Yes, there is. Well...no. I don't know! Oh, gods, Minato..." Her voice trailed off as she buried her face in her hands. He didn't realize she was truly crying until he noticed her shoulders heaving and the breath leaving her lips in ragged hiccups.

He rushed to the opposite side of the desk and gently placed an arm around his bride-to-be. She reminded him of Rin in a way, and he comforted Kushina much as he had the girl after Obito's death. "It's okay...shh...tell me what's happened, okay?"

"Minato...It's awful..." She paused to compose herself, and only continued when the trembling in her voice was reduced to an insignificant tremor. "They've--they've disowned me from my clan. I'm not welcome in my own house with my family. I'm not welcome back in Whirlpool, at all!" The words brought forth tears, and she threw herself across the blond Hokage.

He wrapped his arms around her and let her cry for a while before trying again. "But, Kushina, what exactly happened? There must be a reason--"

"The marriage contract. There was a doctor's exam required...I-I'm...going to have a b-baby." Another sob burst forth when he shoved her away, held at arm's length.

"You're pregnant? Kushina, how--"

"_How_! Don't you dare ask me that! You _must_ remember. We went on a date, Minato. We were drunk..."

He closed his eyes, picturing the scene from three months before with sudden clarity. They were at a bar drinking. He had much more than he usually would and...leaning on her up the path. Stumbling through the door. He'd been thinking of Kakashi and it hurt--_Gods, it hurt!_--and then she was...

"Oh..."

"Oh?"

"Kushina...I'm..."

* * *

**Five months later**

"Oh, fuck! Minato! Gods!"

He held her hand through the pain. They were running out of time. Out the window, snow began to fall.

"Minato…Min…MinaaaAAAH!"

"You're doing fine; almost done, just one more…" Tsunade grunted as she caught the child, swiping his throat to clear the airway. The bawling newborn drowned out his mother's sobs of relief and Minato's calming ministrations. He mewled and cried as she cut the umbilical cord, filling their ears with the sound and everyone turned to look at the small bundle in her arms.

"My son!" Minato took him gingerly and clasped the baby close to his chest. "My son, " he whispered, "My little Naruto."

With careful deliberate movements, he passed the child to Kushina and watched in wonder as she held him to her breast. Instinct took over soon enough, and he was happily sucking down his mother's warm, sweet milk.

Tsunade clapped him on the back. "A natural eater! He'll be giving you a run for your money soon enough, brat." Her eyes went wide as she realized what she had said, but she was saved from her apologies.

A silvery-white streak shot into the room and then Jiraiya appeared beside the Hokage. His grave expression told the younger man all he needed to know and he frowned, but nodded before turning back to Kushina.

"Shina, it's time…"

"NO!"

An audible pop echoed through the room when the startled infant suddenly stopped feeding. His cry filled the space that had followed and his mother clasped him to her chest. "I won't let you! Minato, please! I know you don't love me, but I know you love your son. You son, Minato! Don't do this!" She was frantic, but there was no time to be kind.

"Tsunade, I…"

"Of course." Tsunade touched a hand to Kushina's forehead and the girl's face went slack. "She'll be okay. Now…just go, brat, before I try to stop you myself."

He regarded the Sanin a moment longer, his surrogate mother in so many ways, and then hugged her quickly before hurrying out of the room with the child in his arms. A slight glance over his shoulder showed him Jiraiya shooting Tsunade a meaningful gaze and he hoped that, one day, they would finally acknowledge their feelings in more solid ways. He supposed he'd never know, if all went as planned. But then, at least they would have the chance.

Half-way to the gates, Minato stopped, standing in the softly pattering flakes of snow, allowing them to gather in his hair and eyelashes. He faced his teacher, whose sadness was so obviously mingled with pride in his student. "Sensei, I need you to make them understand. Naruto will be a hero after today; don't let them forget. The life of a Jinchuuriki…a weapon…don't let him be like…_cold_ like…" He couldn't work the words past the lump in his throat. Instead, he added in a whisper, "Tell..._him_...I'm sorry I didn't get to see him one last time."

Jiraiya nodded. "We'll look out for both of them. Kushina, too."

Minato forced a smile before turning abruptly and disappearing in a cloud of smoke.

He'd sworn once that he would die for Konoha; it seemed he was going to make good on the promise. It was time to meet the beast at the gates of _his_ village.

The missing bijuu of Konoha. The Kyuubi. The demon fox.

* * *

Three girls sat huddled in a corner of the girls' dormitory, clinging to one another and trying not to panic. When the shaking began, they had thought it was another earthquake and made their way to the shelter. The walls started coming down, and the screams of the other children bloomed and died around them. With hands clasped over small ears, they shook and mumbled, crying and hopeless.

A fourth girl suddenly appeared beside them. "Hey, come on, we need to get you out of here! Let's go!" Her crimson eyes shown with reflected moonlight and set her off from the swirling snow.

"I wan' Genma..." The smallest of the three, barely twelve years old, was shaking and unsteady, and Kurenai gathered her up into her arms.

"I'm sure he's in the mission room where the others are regrouping. Don't worry. I'll take you to him."

Setting off at a smart pace, the girls followed their chuunin guide away from the demolished dormitory. They didn't think about those they were leaving, not yet.

The last of the walls collapsed behind them, marking the destruction of the dorm and covering an entire generation of Konoha's young women in rubble and ash.

Moonlight shone across the snow, mingling with the red glow of the demon's chakra as Minato

stood before it. It was shaped as a giant fox, nine tails flicking against the backdrop of Konoha. Each swish of a tail sent buildings tumbling and destroyed the life of someone else in the village.

"I'm ending this now."

The demon fox turned its long snout toward the voice, understanding that this man was a challenge to its power where all the other mortals had failed. The red chakra undulated within the beast just before it attacked, and Minato flashed away at the last second, only to reappear on the other side of the demon.

Placing Naruto on the ground and kneeling just beside him, the Hokage flew through a series of hand signs and bowed his head. Gathering every piece of himself before making the final sign, he whispered, "I love you, Naruto. Don't ever forget."

With the final sign, Minato dropped to the ground beside his son. He didn't see the fox disappear in a flash that leveled nearby homes. He didn't see the seal and whisker marks that appeared on the baby; symbols that he was a jinchuuriki, a demon vessel. And he didn't see the small form that scurried from the underbrush to snatch the newborn from his niche beside his father's body.

Minato's last thought before following the shinigami was that the village was safe and Sandaime had been right. It was a life of sacrifice.

Minutes later, when Jiraiya arrived on foot, he found his student's body lying face down in the snow. There was no blood, no wound at all. His blond hair shifted in the breeze and for a moment, Minato looked as if he was merely sleeping.

What Jiraiya did not find was the child.

* * *

Iruka wasn't sure why he left the comfort of his house. Why he wandered down the long entry hall lined with shoes only to step out into the snow barefoot.

He couldn't say how he ended up in the mission room. Only that his throat was sore from screaming something and his eyes burned with the memory of spent tears.

He didn't know if his parents were living or dead. They had been called up with the other ANBU. He had promised to stay in the house, to watch for them from the loft study at the top of the stairs, sitting in his father's stuffed leather chair.

But he wasn't there. He had left the house. They would be looking for him and he had left the house! Strong hands held him back, lowered him to the floor of the mission room. A soft voice

told him it would be okay, relax, sit here for a moment. The pale blond hair of a woman's ponytail tickled his nose when she leaned forward, and she smelled of lavender and something sour he couldn't recognize.

Slumped against the wall, Iruka observed the shinobi moving around him. ANBU like his parents, jounin, and chuunin. The blond woman was talking to a tall, white-haired man.

The worry on their faces changed to strained relief suddenly, and he wondered why.

The entire room had fallen quiet.

Turning to follow the adults' gazes, he saw something standing in the doorway. It was mostly black and gray, covered in blood and soot and snow. In its arms something moved and a noise issued forth that made him cover his ears with his hands and huddle closer to the wall.

It was a baby. A baby in terrible pain.

The black and gray thing moved forward and handed the baby to the white-haired man, and Iruka realized the "thing" was a boy a few years older than he. The boy in black removed his hitai-ate and ran a hand through his hair before replacing it.

The baby's wails had quieted at some point. Iruka kept watching the boy. "Kakashi, will you please sit down?" The woman worded it as a question, but there was no doubt it was a command.

Iruka wasn't sure why the boy in black--"Kakashi"--chose to sit near him, but he did, sliding down the wall to rest on the floor just a few feet away. Iruka kept his eyes straight forward as he tried not to listen to the other boy's anguish. But he'd never heard such painful sobs before, and he found himself crying, too.

When Kakashi had fallen silent and Iruka turned to look at him, he found the boy staring back. For a moment, a breath, he held Iruka's gaze. Then he stood and walked away, through the room and out the door. The shinobi scattered around the tables paused to watch him go.

It wasn't long until the first damage reports arrived. The hospital had been demolished. The girls' dormitory. Many of the neighborhoods and apartment complexes. A whole swathe of downtown. Konoha was in ruins. There were so many dead.

And not long after that, the body of a young man was brought into the mission room on a stretcher. Iruka weaved through the crowd, coming to stand beside the blond woman who was holding the baby. Before them lay the Hokage. Iruka recognized the fiery pattern on his clothes

and the bushy blond hair that had made him laugh when the man visited his class at the academy. The Hokage had smiled a lot then. He wasn't smiling anymore.

And if the Hokage could die...

Iruka turned his face into the hip of the woman beside him, letting his tears soak her clothing. He didn't care. He knew his sobs were as painfully harsh as those belonging to the boy called Kakashi. At least, he hoped they were. His parents were dead. He wouldn't lie to himself now. If the Hokage had died, there was no chance his parents were still out there somewhere. The weight of it would surely crush him.

A hand came to rest on the back of his head, stroking his hair as his mother had always done. Iruka sobbed louder and the baby joined in, a cacophony of loneliness in a suddenly bleak world.


	5. Only a Habit

**_A/N: _**So, uh, yes, another. :) I'm horrid at summaries and a reviewer pointed out the fear-inducing (hehe, I know) summary that I had with all of the pairings, so it's gone. I just wanted to say thanks to you guys who came here to read despite that gawd-awful summary. Thank you and everyone who is reading. I love to hear from you guys. ;)

By the way, there seems to be at least 9 stories total in this series now (not all written ;). So, expect more soon.

**

* * *

****Pre-Kyuubi. Kakashi, 15, ANBU; Genma, 18, ANBU  
**(as ANBU, they are still jounin and still do regular missions, too)

_Shit!_ His fingers slipped on the bloody slick forming at the front of the kid's shirt. Rain mixed with the blood, spilling the stain onto the ground in an exaggerated puddle. He'd been lucky to find him alone by the creek. It had been an easy shot.

The senbon sticking out of the flat chest sat motionless, mocking his inability to grasp it properly. In a normal assassination, this wouldn't even be a problem. Senbon were cheap and unidentifiable. But the evidence...The mission parameters stated no evidence whatsoever should be left at the scene.

This included the senbon, carefully inserted with practiced precision between the kid's ribs and into his heart. It didn't emerge through the back; instead, it had only stopped when the tip became embedded in the bone on the other side. He knew anatomy, and he knew the death hadn't been as instantaneous as he had hoped. The pressure had taken a moment to build, the boy's body convulsing on the pine needled banks, before his heart had finally ruptured.

Genma ripped off his gloves and shoved them into his pocket. He gripped the senbon as low as possible, the tips of his bare fingers flush with cool, wet skin. With a grunt, he placed a foot across the small ribcage and used it as leverage when he pulled. The sucking sound of the senbon leaving wet, bloody flesh was enough to set him off again, and he vomited into the water of the creek. The water carried that evidence away, as well, mingling it with the blood and rain and mud in the rising waters.

He rinsed the senbon, shoving it back into his pouch, and then squatted down beside the body. Dark brown almond-shaped eyes stared up at him in frozen surprise. The cherry blossom mouth was parted in the painful final gasp that had loosed his spirit.

Genma ran his fingertips along the ten-year-old's lower lip. With patience, he massaged the pressure from the flesh beneath his thumb and forefinger, reducing the pained expression to a cherubic half-smile. The same gentle strokes brought the eyelids down to close over the small eyes that spoke of a boy too trusting of strangers and far too willing to help a lost traveler find his way. He'd been easy prey.

Moving down to the boy's chest and the wound inside the unbuttoned shirt--away from those eyes--he applied a small amount of healing chakra to the pinhole, closing the flesh, removing more evidence. The cause of death would remain unsolved for weeks unless they knew what to look for...and he was certain they did not.

Genma removed the bloody shirt carefully, attempting not to think about _why_ the shirt was unfastened in such a way. His stomach turned at the memory that surfaced anyway. At the fear in the boy's eyes as Genma, playing the part of the tall stranger, unbuttoned this kid's shirt and pulled it down off of his shoulder. The way the boy had bitten back a cry when Genma ran a hand over his smooth, pale chest.

But the boy hadn't run away from his touch, and Genma had no trouble finding the spot between his ribs, tickling his fingertips across the surface.

Genma glared down at the body when he was finished rinsing the shirt and replacing it. "Why the fuck didn't you run away?!" He wanted to kick the body lying prone at his feet. He wanted to beat some sense into the child, horrified by what he thought was probably the truth: the boy was used to such treatment, larger hands on his skin and clothing removed without his permission. Cynically, Genma wondered if it was the father, who would no doubt mourn his son's passing and curse Nature and Fate and the gods for having taken the child from him.

It was disgusting. It had hurt something inside of Genma just to pretend to be the kind of person who did those things to kids...

He ignored the small voice in his head crying, _But you **killed** him!_

The boy reminded him of Kakashi, the little demon child of Konoha, and the way the ANBU passed the young jounin around, volunteering to pair with him on missions and going so far as to have a rotation-based queue to ensure everyone got their _fair_ chance. They said Kakashi, after the worst kinds of mission, was the best mission sex one could hope for.

It was just as disgusting in Genma's eyes, but there was nothing he could say or do to change it. He was the new guy: a new jounin and a new ANBU. His capacity to influence the veterans was simply nonexistent.

He wanted to beat some sense into the silver-haired teenager as well.

Mumbling thanks that this, at least, wasn't an ANBU mission, Genma took a punch at the air, for the boy and for Kakashi.

With a livid grunt, Genma made one last pass over the scene, satisfied that the boy's death would be labeled a mystery or, at a stretch, a drowning. He was tempted to carry the small child over to the creek and let him float silently through the gentle water, but the mission parameters had explicitly stated that the body needed to be found by the parents. Instead, he turned his back on the little scene, jumped up into the trees, and headed back toward Asuma across the creek.

"Took ya long enough."

"I was...it's fine. Job's done. C'mon."

They traveled through the trees for a few miles in silence before Asuma raised a hand and the pair came to a stop. "Kid, you okay?"

Genma glanced at the man beside him, a flick of the eyes, nothing more. _Am I that obvious..._

"Hey, I said--"

"No. No, I'm not okay, alright?" Genma dropped to sit on the branch, more to prevent a fall from the sudden trembling wracking his limbs than out of fatigue. "It's the first time I ever killed a kid. I mean, up close like that. He...I..."

Asuma took a seat beside him, rubbing a hand in his beard. He was only four years older, but the beard always made Genma think of the man's father, the Hokage. Side-by-side, they certainly made a strange contrast. With an arching brow, Asuma rummaged in his side pouch and retrieved a small rectangular package. Tapping it on his hand until two cigarettes fell from the pack, he held one out to Genma. "Here."

"What? No. I don't--"

"Take it; good for the nerves."

When he hesitated, Asuma lit his own cigarette, then traded with Genma, shoving the fiery stick in between his fingers and forcing him to hold it.

"Like this." He demonstrated, then watched as Genma took a small drag on the cigarette, a string of smoke trailing out of his mouth. "Good. Next time, take a deep breath. You gotta breathe through it. Not a lot, though, or you'll just be hackin' up a lung."

Genma took a few more practice puffs, inhaling small amounts of smoke and wrinkling his nose as it tingled in his nostrils. To his surprise, after a while, he did feel somewhat relaxed.

When the cigarette had grown short and Genma was finally at his ease, he followed Asuma's lead and jumped down to the ground, dousing the cigarette's ember and stowing the remaining filter in his pouch. _No evidence._

With a mutual nod, they sped off into the trees, internal compasses firmly set for Konoha.

* * *

Genma hunched over his cigarette and hoped no one would notice. Standing on the balcony of his dingy apartment and watching the empty streets of the village he lived to protect, he took in the scene with a slight smile. It seemed so peaceful.

Inhaling a long drag on the cigarette, he put it out in the ashtray nearby. Without missing a beat, though inside his blood was already rushing, he asked, "Sir?" He turned to the ANBU captain who had suddenly appeared behind him and nodded in greeting.

"What the fuck are you doing, Shiranui?"

"Taking a sec before the mission. I'm not late--" He glanced through the sliding door of his balcony at the clock hanging just inside. "--nope, I'm not late, so..."

"Doesn't matter. You aren't going on this mission. You smell like cigarettes and there's no fucking way to mask it. Dammit, Shiranui. Now I'll have to find a replacement and...Hey, where'd you get those, anyway?"

Genma held up his hands as if in surrender. "I know, I know; I'm not technically, legally supposed to be smoking, but--"

"Who gave them to you?" It only _sounded_ like a question.

"Asuma. Sarutobi Asuma."

"Shoulda known. Shit. You're staying here, confined to your quarters." The captain took the cigarette package from Genma's hand in one swift move. "Expect to be contacted." He was gone before Genma could say another word. Not that he had anything to say. He hadn't realized...hadn't thought about it.

He smacked his forehead and jerked the door open. _I'm an idiot._

Three hours later, a bird arrived for Genma. The Hokage, himself, had summoned him, apparently, and without allowing a moment of doubt or second guessing, he took off for the administrative building and the Hokage's office.

Standing outside the Hokage's door, Genma got the distinct feeling he was being stalked. At least two jounin in the mission room and even one of the ANBU in the hallway beside the large double oak doors had bled murderous intent in his direction--he was sure of it. To make matters worse, Sandaime was in no mood for his antics and jokes, only glaring at him from below the hat of his office.

"Shiranui Genma. Asuma has already been dealt with. Unfortunately, when faced with the decision, he chose to relinquish his position as ANBU rather than give up that ridiculous habit." The man closed his eyes a moment before reopening them and assuming the hardened glare of a disgruntled parent. "My son is responsible for your new habit, so it is my duty as his parent to clean up his mess. Please be seated."

Genma held his tongue and took his seat, unwilling to point out that while Asuma was, indeed, his son, he was also twenty-two-years-old and hardly under his father's purview. Instead, he quietly waited for the Hokage's pronouncement.

Sifting through some scrolls lying in a row on his desk, Sandaime chose one and opened it, skimming the letters before turning to Genma. "It seems I do have a job for you. Because you smell like cigarette smoke, you won't be able to go on any ANBU-specific missions for at least two weeks, time enough for the smell to dissipate. In the meantime--"

"Um, Hokage-sama, if I may..."

"Yes?"

"Who took my place on the mission today?"

"Do you really want to know? It might be better if you didn't, seeing as how you may have condemned the person to death simply by being there in your place." At least the man was being honest, Genma supposed.

"Yes, sir. I would...I would like to know."

"Hatake Kakashi."

"Oh." Of course. His mind drifted to the boy he'd killed two weeks before beside a creek in Rock Country. It went further back, to the first time he'd seen Kakashi, covered in blood, an eleven-year-old assassin, a true vision of death. _Shi-chan._

The pieces fell into place and Genma realized that the others were angry because he had altered their schedule. Kakashi wouldn't be available for the mission he'd been previously assigned. They wouldn't get their _ultimate release_, or whatever they thought Kakashi was. Of course, now he was out with a different set of ANBU, so did it really change anything? _I suppose not._

Again, he felt the urge to force the boy to fight back against the things that were happening to him. He hated to see him used, even if tools were _meant_ to be used.

Sandaime cleared his throat. "As I was saying, I have a job for you. I want you to shadow Namikaze Minato." The Hokage nearly laughed at Genma's genuinely shocked expression.

"The-the Yellow Flash? How can I...I mean, I'm just--"

"Your mission will end when you can follow him without being noticed. It shall signal that all of the smoke has left your system, and you will have gained valuable experience and training as well."

"But-but the Yellow Flash is--"

"Going to be my successor." Again, Genma's comic reaction nearly forced a chuckle from the older man. "That is classified information, but it should sufficiently explain the 'why' that you are dying to ask. You are to confirm his character for me."

When Genma didn't speak again, still locked into a gaping, wide-eyed look that made him appear even younger than his eighteen years, the Hokage nodded and turned back to his scrolls. "You may go now."

And Genma went. Walking quietly out of the room and down the long hall, ignoring the ANBU who watched him pass and the jounin who did the same. He kept moving until he ended up in the park and followed the trail around to the training grounds, finally stopping to sprawl in the grass. He must have fallen asleep, because quite suddenly he was opening his eyes to the sight of a boy's head leaned over his own.

"Boo!" Genma growled, and the younger boy fell backward with a yelp. "Ha! You're too easy."

"Nu-uh." Iruka eyed the older boy suspiciously. "Genma-nii, what are you doing in the grass?"

"Sleepin' I guess." He thought for minute, eying Iruka, who warily scooted backward on the grass. "Hey, you're still in the academy...What are the basic rules of stealth?"

Iruka plucked at the grass, pulling a few of the pieces away and tossing them in the air. "Aw, do I have to? I'm--"

"Stealth, Iruka-chan?"

"Fine. Why are we friends, anyway? You just use me to do your dirty work," he huffed, rolling over onto his stomach. "The five rules of stealth--_slow, calm, downwind, shadows, silence_. Of course, that's just when you're up close to the person. If you wanna observe from a distance, it's still _downwind_, _silence_, and _shadows_, but maybe not so much the other two. And you can always improvise, of course, planting a listening device or something ahead of time--"

"Okay, wait a sec. How do you know all of that?"

"Um, I pay attention in class?" The sarcasm in the pre-teen's voice wasn't lost on Genma who rolled his eyes.

"How 'bout if I wanna do long-term surveillance? Following someone around?"

"Hm. Extended surveillance requires more planning and preparation. For that, it's good to watch the subject and gather information. Eat the foods he eats so that you smell the same. Adopt his sleeping patterns so you can be awake when he's awake. Um...Oh! How are you at hiding your chakra? That's really important, I think." The look Genma gave him immediately reminded the boy of the tattoo he had seen on his friend's shoulder that summer. They had gone swimming, and Genma had forgotten to keep it covered, much to his chagrin. He'd made Iruka swear not to tell. "Oh, right..."

"Thanks; that's prob'ly enough info for one day. Wanna train with me?"

Iruka eyed him with a sideways look that always made Genma chuckle. The boy intended to look threatening and, perhaps in a few years, it would work. At age eleven, it was mostly laughable. Iruka ignored Genma's grin and stated flatly, "Thought you had a mission."

"Starts tomorrow. So, c'mon?" With a sigh of surrender, the kid stood and followed the teenager, exactly as he had always done for as far back as either could remember. For many years, the Shiranui and Umino families had been friends. The children had always known one another and, somehow, Genma had ended up with Iruka as a permanent attachment. It wasn't something he ever minded, however, and to Genma and his sister, Iruka's parents had become surrogate replacements for their own. "What's your mom cooking tonight? Room for one more?"

"Roast duck!" The boy nodded, grinning brilliantly. They walked in amiable silence for a few blocks before Iruka spoke again. His voice was low and solemn when he asked, "What's it like, nii-chan? You know, killing someone for real?"

"It ain't fun." He ruffled the boy's ponytail. "Why?"

"I just, well, I don't really think I want to do it. Kill people, I mean."

"Hn. Me neither, kiddo."

* * *

For three weeks, Genma shadowed the future Hokage, the Yellow Flash of Konoha, Namikaze Minato.

Unable to smoke, as had quickly become his habit, he took up a new one quite by accident: senbon. With morbid amusement, Genma started keeping one in his mouth at all times to ward away the cravings that occasionally took hold. When he was nervous, he slipped his tongue along the smooth, metal surface. Curbing his anger was as easy as stabbing the little point into his tongue just so. He was pleased to find that every inclination could be controlled by manipulating the small object.

Including the boredom of watching someone as straight-laced as Namikaze Minato.

Genma ate more ramen than he ever thought he could stomach, slept only a few hours each night, and learned more about both Kakashi and Minato than he had ever thought possible. Not that they didn't notice him at first, but, gradually, the pair seemed to become dulled to his presence and, eventually, appeared to forget him altogether, as if his chakra signature had melted into the daily background. A chat with Iruka confirmed that this was quite the possibility. Even the best ninja could become complacent within the walls of their home village.

There were many things that perplexed him in regard to the blond man, all of which he reported on a regular basis to Sandaime. He found himself making a list as he studied and watched, writing down the little details, the oddities, the more unique behaviors. Most concerned the Yellow Flash's horrid diet and habit of drinking coffee late into the evening, but one thing puzzled him above all else. It seemed _strange_ for a man of Minato's age and obvious eligibility not to be seeing someone. And yet, Genma knew for a fact that the Yellow Flash was single and decidedly _not_ seeing anyone at all.

The man went home every night to an empty apartment. Sometimes he read. Sometimes he didn't. He almost always took twenty minutes before bed to jerk himself off, much to Genma's embarrassment and leading to fevered gnawing on the senbon.

Minato was kind and understanding. Confident and outgoing. A competent jounin, only twenty-three years old, and clearly attractive. _He's fucking hot! Why the hell is he single?_

It was a thorn in Genma's side, a white hot poker that he knew would be removed if only he could grasp the one obvious explanation that eluded him. The reason was there, waiting to be found, he just knew it.

In the meantime, it was driving him crazy with curiosity.

When Minato and Kakashi departed on a joint mission, Genma thought he would receive a reprieve and take a few of his own--he certainly didn't smell like smoke anymore. However, Sandaime, himself, informed the teenager that he would be working in the mission room every day until their return, at which point, he would continue his surveillance. It was chuunin work, but Genma knew better than to argue with the Hokage.

On the sixth day of such work, a messenger arrived at the mission desk with a succinct note addressed to Genma. It simply read, "Here. NW."

He nodded to the genin who had brought the slip of paper and excused himself from the desk for the rest of the day, ignoring the glares of the chuunin who had been sitting beside him. He jogged out of the mission room, down the hall, the stairs. Genma took to the roofs once he was outside and only stopped briefly by his apartment to don his ANBU uniform before bursting through the gates of the village and out into the forest.

It was dark when he found the pair well within the borders of Fire Country. The Yellow Flash had opted for a fire so close to home, and the light lengthened the shadows within the surrounding trees. Genma further masked his chakra and found a place to recline, watching, as always, from some distance away. He couldn't make out any sounds except the murmur of voices, but if he had learned anything about the pair, it was that they didn't always need words to communicate, anyway.

They ate separated by the orange glow of the fire, and then sat for over an hour in silence. Genma was starting to think the dash into the woods had been for nothing, when he noticed Kakashi climbing into his bedroll. It might not have seemed like much to anyone else, but something about the way Minato jerked his head at the action caught Genma's eye. It was a new gesture, something he had yet to see the man do, and he watched enthralled as the blond looked at Kakashi, glanced around at the trees, dropped his head into his hands, and then repeated the process. He seemed indecisive.

Eventually, Minato stood, and Genma assumed he was going to relieve himself in the woods before retiring to bed. He nearly fell out of his tree, however, when the Yellow Flash crossed the fire circle and knelt beside Kakashi. He could clearly see the man's hands on the boy's back, stroking and rubbing, like he was comforting him. It was a natural gesture, and Genma might have overlooked it but for the persistent questions hovering just below his normal level of consciousness. The man was single. He spent all of the time that he could with his student. Kakashi's reputation...

Genma nearly fell again and was forced to wrap his legs around the thick branch when Minato climbed into Kakashi's bedroll. Staring in shock, he watched and listened, unable to blink or speak, unable to move. He heard the man groan, Kakashi's name thick on his lips. He heard the teenage jounin call out as well, but whether Kakashi was a voluntary participant or not, he couldn't tell. Such knowledge wouldn't change what he was seeing.

Someone else was using the boy. Like the other jounin and the ANBU, Namikaze Minato was using Kakashi.

Genma wondered if he'd had to wait in line like the others, or if Minato got special privileges as his sensei. He choked down a gag at the thought.

He'd honestly believed in Minato.

He'd thought he knew the man with blond hair and clear, blue eyes, who never seemed to be hiding anything.

He'd never once suspected...

He was just like everyone else.

When their movements had ceased, the Yellow Flash lay beside Kakashi, arms wrapped around the boy, chin resting on his head. Genma watched a moment longer, just to be sure they were both drifting off to sleep. Methodically, fingers trembling, he removed the senbon from his mouth and dropped it into his pouch before pulling down his ANBU mask. Then, as quickly as he could manage without being caught, the young jounin cleared the trees near the fire and broke into a run toward Konoha.

He couldn't stay in the woods a moment longer.

He didn't go immediately to Sandaime. He didn't go home.

Genma ended up on the roof of the administrative building, perched above the Hokage's office. He watched Konoha dozing serenely through the night, then observed the glint of new sun off the spires and windows of the squat, round buildings. Smoke rose from the oblong shops, and the village awoke to a beautiful morning.

He didn't notice the surrounding glory of the rising sun, nor the people starting about their business. Genma was focused on what he'd seen--the horrible thing he'd discovered about their future Hokage. That he was like the others...it was unforgivable in Genma's eyes. However, still, he hesitated. Raidou had long since taken his post on the roof and the crimson sky turned blue before he found the courage to report his discovery to the Hokage.

The mission room and the rest of the administrative building were still mostly empty, but Genma knew the older man below was sitting in his chair and smoking his pipe. The Hokage had opened his office window less than an hour before to let out the smoke.

_bang-bang_

The Hokage's muffled voice called, "Enter," and Genma opened the doors gently. They creaked on giant hinges, immediately rocking closed when he let his hands slide away from the wood.

Exactly as expected, the man was situated behind the desk. His fingers were smudged with ink, and a long, sleek calligraphy brush sat off to one side. "Sandaime-sama."

"You have something to report, then? Get tired of sitting on the roof?" The man's neutral expression didn't reflect the amusement in his voice.

Genma struggled against the lump in his throat, working the words past it one at a time. "Namikaze...san...he..." He swallowed, choking on the confession and considered walking away. He could still pass it off as something trivial like _Namikaze-san has returned with Kakashi from their mission._ It would be nothing to lie and stroll away as if nothing had happened. Kakashi had seemed more than willing, and he _knew_ Minato after weeks of studying him. The man didn't seem capable of...of forcing...of taking advantage of the boy. But then, neither did any of the other adults, really. After all, they were Konoha ninja elite! But Genma had been on enough missions to know the missions were getting more difficult, and the ANBU dealt with it however they could.

Genma pictured Kakashi, the fifteen-year-old always returned bloody and beaten, exhausted. The kid gave everything for the village. _It's just not right._

With a deep, nasal breath, he began again. "Sandaime-sama, I need to report somethin' that I know may be of no consequence, but I can't ignore it. Uh...Namikaze-san and Kakashi are having an..." He searched for the right word, wincing as it came hoarse and stilted from his lips. "...an _intimate_ relationship."

The faintest twitch of an eyebrow was the Sandaime Hokage's only reaction. Genma went on, knowing he was breaking some sacred, unwritten rule of ANBU, but unwilling to allow it to continue. _Unable_ to allow it. "They...I don't know if you or Namikaze-san know, but some of the others--alotta the others--they take advantage of Kakashi pretty regularly for, you know...uh..._mission sex_. He's small. He doesn't fight--that's what I heard, and--"

The Hokage raised a brow before biting out, "And you, Shiranui? Have _you_ ever done so?"

"N-no! No, sir. I would have said something sooner, but..."

"The ranks of ANBU are rather closed-lipped. You can expect retribution; but, I think you knew that." The Hokage's expression softened a bit. "Do you regret it?"

"No, Hokage-sama. I expect them to be angry that I told, but, sir, it is _wrong_ to take advantage of him like that. He's just a little kid. And that's why I had to tell you about Namikaze-san. It was like the others said--Kakashi didn't fight or run or anything like that. When I think about it, I just wanna--"

"Shiranui, calm yourself. I can assure you, this will be dealt with in an appropriate manner. Kakashi is more than capable of taking care of himself and that anyone could force that boy into anything is incomprehensible. He is ultimately of legal age and the decision is his own." His hawk-like eyes focused on Genma's, and the young shinobi stiffened, coming involuntarily to attention. "However, I will investigate the matter, myself. In the meantime, you are no longer required to shadow them. You will return to regular missions until further notice."

"Until further--?"

"Yes. I may yet have need of you." The Hokage returned to his scrolls and Genma took the hint that their conversation was effectively over.

He bowed deeply. "Thank you, Hokage-sama." Already lost in thought, the Hokage grunted in reply.

Genma slipped his ANBU mask down over his face and entered the hall outside of the Hokage's office with a well-practiced air of calm. Inside, his nerves were on fire. The implication against The Yellow Flash could ruin the man's reputation if the wrong people--

With a stifled cry, Genma jumped back. Standing just before him in the middle of the long hall was Namikaze Minato. The man eyed him warily before shrugging and moving on, and it was only after the man had disappeared into the Hokage's office that he finally let out the breath he'd been holding. The Yellow Flash hadn't recognized him, he was _almost_ positive. At least, it was his sincerest hope.

It was Genma's friend Raidou who found him a few days later and informed him of the conversation between the Hokage and The Yellow Flash. From his position atop the administrative building, just above the office and its open window and balcony, he couldn't have avoided overhearing the heated words.

Minato had agreed to leave off with Kakashi, but _only_ after Sandaime had forbidden him to see the boy.

Remembering their constant companionship, Genma felt only distant and cold, and a sliver of fear solidified, embedding itself in his spine. It was in Genma's nature to be a decisive person, to never regret the things he couldn't go back and change, but the feeling that he had betrayed the pair with whom he'd come to share a one-way bond niggled at the back of his mind.

In moments of quiet, when he started to think about it, he thought he could hear Kakashi's voice gasping _Minato_ into the night. Was it fear or love that strained the tone?

* * *

Nearly one month after his shadowing mission ended, Genma found himself standing before Hatake Kakashi with new orders. The boy was getting taller, the crown of his head already past Genma's shoulder, and he was still a slightly humorous conglomeration of limbs and hair and a mask that hid everything from the older boy's curious gaze.

"Hey, _Shi-chan_, Sandaime-sama told me to find you. I'm Shiranui Genma, your new partner." _Partner._ Genma inwardly smirked, confident that he knew the real reason he'd been permanently paired with Kakashi.

"I work alone." Dead gray eyes watched him with bored detachment. "Don't call me that."

"But Sandaime--" _But I'm here to protect you, dammit!_

The boy crossed his arms. "I work alone. The new Hokage will be installed in three days. _He_ will know that."

A sharp stab of guilt shot through Genma's chest, and he bit out, "But the Yellow Flash won't see you, will he?" His mouth flew shut with an audible click as soon as the words were said. After a moment of shocked silence, he slipped a senbon between his lips.

The boy, however, didn't seem to care where the information had come from or even why Genma was interested. He only offered a lazy, "Hm."

Genma studied the blank expression, then let his eyes roam to take in Kakashi's posture. He realized unexpectedly that it _wasn't_ laziness at all. Amidst the casual act, taut muscles flexed, and his jaw was set hard--in frustration or to keep his words from escaping, Genma couldn't say.

Seeing the two seemingly opposite demeanors superimposed on one another was the very definition of _disconcerting_.

Mostly for something to do, he handed a scroll to Kakashi. "Here, _partner_. Our first mission." The younger boy opened it and read Sandaime's precise kanji.

An assassination mission, of course. They would be away from the village for at least ten days, missing the inauguration of the new Hokage and the parties and cheering and excitement. They would miss the more secretive celebration with the other ANBU operatives below the administrative building.

Genma didn't mind. In fact, he would be happy to get Kakashi away from them. Not for the first time, he wondered if his reassignment as Kakashi's partner was simply a tactical decision or Sandaime's unofficial solution to the problem with the boy. He was willing to bet the latter.

He smiled at Kakashi, not expecting one in return, and waited.

After a few silent moments, with a sigh that sounded strangely like relief, Kakashi nodded, hoisting his pack onto his shoulder and looking up at the older nin. Perhaps there _was_ the faint trace of a smile behind the mask?

The young teenager muttered, "Let's go," and walked toward the door.


	6. Only Regret

**A/N: **I just realized there is a timeline screw up/logical fallacy in here on my part. If you don't notice it, heh, then I suppose it's not so important. If you do, eh, to err is human? Thanks for bearing with me as I write this monster out of order. I really need to update with a read order/written order list...hm...Thanks, thanks. ;)

**Warnings for under-age non-con (not pornographic, but still described), angst, blood, angst.**

* * *

**Three years after Kyuubi's attack.**

**Iruka, 15, chuunin; Genma, 21, ANBU (does non-ANBU missions, too); Kakashi, 17, ANBU (mentioned only)**

"Ready, kid?"

"Stop calling me _kid_; I'm fifteen years old and a _chuunin_. I'm not a kid anymore." Iruka's balled fists were cute, Genma thought.

_Like he would really h--_

The jounin dodged the blow, which was more like a playful jab. The boy smiled. "So, where are we going, nii-chan?" they had resumed walking side-by-side, two _civilians_ out on a journey.

"Not much farther, actually. It's a town called Hokaku. You remember what to do?"

"You get me to the room, I clear the traps, and you open the cabinet while I keep watch. We get the scroll; we get out. Simple." The young chuunin smiled at his _nii-chan_ and received an indulgent smirk in return.

"Too bad Shi-chan missed out on this one. Between the two of us, this is gonna be a piece of cake." The odd clicking noise Genma made with his senbon to punctuate the last word caused Iruka to laugh, and he was glad. It offset the shiver that ran down his spine every time Genma said "Shi-chan." It was creepy calling Kakashi something like that, invoking death so casually.

They walked on in silence for a while.

Genma thoughtfully chewed his senbon.

Iruka, hands in his pockets, let his mind wander.

He hadn't seen Genma in a while. After the demon fox...Iruka had thought Genma and his sister would move in with him, to the big house at the edge of town, with its long entry and the empty loft study-apartment. The house was too big for him to live alone amidst its memories and lost moments. But with Genma and Nadia, he'd thought they could be a family.

Instead, Nadia had gone to live with the other girls. There were so few left in their generation with the destruction of the dormitory, and she said she should be there for the little ones who didn't have anyone to look out for them anymore.

Genma had gone to the bachelor apartments, entirely against his will. Apparently, some on the council thought Genma was too old to live alone with Iruka, as they weren't actually related. He remembered that Genma had been called before the council many times in the weeks that followed, but Sandaime's influence had failed him for the first time. They forbade it. Iruka remained alone in his family's house.

After the trials, Genma was given a partner to work with. _Kakashi._ Iruka had recognized the name immediately and recalled the boy he'd seen crying in the mission room. Genma talked about him all of the time, but never brought him over. He said he was older than Iruka, though he had seemed small for his age, nearly the same size, really. When he asked why _Kashi-kun_ never visited, Genma insisted the boy was shy and didn't like to be social.

Somehow, this made Iruka smile; he might have guessed as much.

Stumbling on a stone in the road, Iruka remembered where he was and blushed. He wondered how his thoughts had moved to Kakashi. Again. Always Kakashi.

He found himself thinking about the young jounin when he shouldn't--_couldn't_--be thinking of him. On missions. Training. Hanging out with Genma. _Even in the shower_, he admitted ruefully. Iruka's infatuation had been growing ever since he'd seen the boy in black looking so vulnerable and broken. For over three years, his blush at such thoughts had betrayed him regularly, but no one paid attention to the strange increase coloring when Kakashi came up in conversation. Iruka's blush was an everyday occurrence, after all, and he was sure no one knew his secret.

Walking beside Genma, he wondered why he'd chosen not to tell his friend--he usually told him everything.

Kakashi was something different.

He knew it was foolish, but in a way, he already thought of the boy as _his Kashi-kun_. In its lack of experience, his heart did nothing to persuade him otherwise.

Iruka jumped when Genma suddenly declared, "There it is. Hokaku."

* * *

Through thick pain and the cloying taste of blood, Genma's mind slowly surfaced and became aware of his surroundings. He lay on his back. A rock or a stick, something solid, was jabbing him in the back. His throat felt stuffed with cotton; his tongue was coated and sticky against the roof of his mouth. With a choked growl, Genma rolled to his knees, flopping down onto the palms of his hands, on all fours like an animal. A gash in his thigh protested sharply, but he ignored it. Something much worse had caught his attention.

_They have Iruka?_

_They have Iruka._

_They have Iruka!_

He was running before he consciously thought to stand, barreling through the forest, no longer concerned with stealth or surprise.

_They have Iruka._

It was his only purpose, the thought that kept him going and carried him through the trees, following the stench of their perverted chakra all the way to a door. A black, featureless plane in a mossy brick wall. The handle turned easily enough, but Genma ignored such details. He was already inside and half way down the third flight of stairs. Killing intent flew before the young jounin, one hand full of senbon, the other holding a kunai, and Genma smiled widely as he plowed the Mist nin down one after another. _They have Iruka!_

Snatching up the shirt neck of a man he had just cut down, Genma demanded, "Where is he!? Where's the kid!?"

The gurgled reply was of little use, and Genma cast him aside. Yanking the nearest door, operating on pure adrenaline and instinct, he moved on. Decimating the band of Mist nin, killing them before they had any chance to raise a cry of alarm, systematically slaughtering Iruka's captors.

His blood lust only faltered when he reached a door he was sure led to the boy. Genma opened it with marked hesitation, and relief threatened to overwhelm him at the sight of his friend lying on a filthy cot, bound with rope and chakra wire, gagged with a bundle of cloth. A man in the corner, the lone guard left with the disabled prisoner, jumped to attack, collapsing to the floor immediately with multiple senbon jutting from his chest above his heart. The sanguine stain that rose on his shirt as he fell was proof enough for Genma, and he moved to Iruka's side.

"Iruka-chan! Hey, we gotta go, man. C'mon!" The rope fell to his kunai; the chakra wire to a jutsu he'd picked up from Kakashi. The gag found its way to the floor, and Genma hefted the semi-conscious boy over his shoulder. Though there were no enemies left to attack, Genma felt the tug and pull of urgency, a sense of harried excitement that pressed him to move faster, faster, even faster. _Gotta get outta this place!_

They burst into the sunlight, and Genma kept running through the forest, stopping only once to grab their packs from the hollow knot of a tree. He ran and ran and finally, safe within the borders of Fire Country, Genma slowed and eventually stopped completely. A few hours of carrying Iruka at full speed had drained him, and the jounin sank to the ground, to his knees.

* * *

Iruka awoke with a start, taking in the branches above him, the stars beyond, the glow of the fire, and the whir of cicadas. _I'm outside._ He reached up and smoothed a strand of hair out of his face, marveling at his restored freedom of movement. Turning his head, headache pounding slightly, Iruka saw Genma.

The man was brooding, hunched over and staring into the fire. In the minutes Iruka watched him, Genma didn't blink, just sucked on his senbon and tapped rhythmically at the grass and leaves on the ground. Occasionally he hummed, but it was a tuneless, melancholy thing.

"Ni-nii-chan?"

Genma whirled around, his eyes large white platters in the glow of the flickering firelight. "Iruka? Oh, gods, Iruka!"

He fell upon the boy, arms wrapping protectively around abraded skin and bruised muscle, hugging him close to his chest, squeezing too tightly. The stinging behind Iruka's eyes threatened to burst free, and he blinked it back.

Genma kept mumbling, "Iruka, I'm so...I'm so glad you're..."

Their foreheads clunked together, noses touching, and Iruka wondered if Genma was okay. He was acting so strange.

When feral eyes met his own, fear flared somewhere deep within. Fear of Genma. Nii-chan.

His friend, so much like a brother, was panting, hot breath searing Iruka's lips, and he realized how close they were. He couldn't control the impulse; he squirmed, trying to escape the man's embrace.

Genma shoved forward, smooth lips landing roughly against Iruka's--Iruka, who squirmed more forcefully and tried to shove him back. "Get...away!" He hurled the words through bruised lips, past need that was already grasping at him. He hated the way his body reacted, needed Genma to touch him again. Genma's touch cut too deeply; it shouldn't hurt so much.

The jounin growled, and Iruka felt himself pressed into the bedroll, half of his body still situated on the unyielding ground, on the rough fallen leaves. _I'm shinobi. I'm better than this. I can...I can...what...?_ There was no time to think and gather his thoughts into coherent patterns. There was only himself and Genma and a pain that shot through the boy as Genma pushed his way inside. It pierced him in a straight line all the way to his heart.

He heard someone cry out and squeezed his eyes shut at the pitiful sound.

And then...nothing. Only the sharp movements of Genma's hips pounding against him. Only the crinkle of leaves beneath him as he took whatever Genma gave because there was nothing he could do. Only the sound of fists meeting flesh as Iruka pounded back, eventually making contact with Genma's jaw.  
"Ni...nii-chan! Gen...Genma, st-stop..."

Genma's eyes widened and then fell, straining through the night to see the person below him. There was no moon, and the fire had died in the interval between waning moments of consciousness. But when he saw the scar, the scar across the bridge of the nose, the scar he, himself, had made so many years ago...

He was still moving inside of Iruka, still moving, still...With a shock of disgust, Genma jumped back and away from the trembling boy. The clearing filled with the deafening silence between them and then, just as suddenly, the silence was brushed away, replaced by the sounds of retching. Genma spilled his guts onto the ground. He poured betrayal and self-loathing and anger out for the entire world to see--or, at least, one teenage boy.

And Iruka did see.

He remembered what he'd been told once. Somewhere through the pain he remembered. Jounin, ANBU--_They do things no one else wants to do. They do the things no human being should have to do._

As betrayed as he felt, Iruka wondered what Genma had done. What had been required to save him? A vague memory_--bloody pools on the floor slipping past his vision as he was carried away over Genma's shoulder_--Iruka wasn't sure he wanted to know.

Gritting his teeth and sucking in a sharp hiss at the deep burning low in his hips, Iruka rolled and stood. His trousers hung around his knees and, mechanically, he pulled them up and tucked his shirt into the waistband. With shaking hands, he bound his hair, smoothing the locks into some semblance of order. Iruka had to fix this. He had to make things go back to the moment just before and start over. Fix it. Stop it from happening. _Fix this._

"Ni-n-ni-chan?" He hated the way his voice quaked as much as he hated the smell that surrounded Genma. The bile.

"You...Iruka...you shouldn't get too close--"

"Why...did you..."

Genma closed his eyes, his head falling to hang between his shoulders and arms as he knelt on all fours. Blond hair draped to hide his face.

"Do you..." Iruka began. He needed to ask, even if he didn't believe it was true. His body had reacted. He _needed_ to ask. "Do you...do you l-love me, nii-chan? Like _that_?"

He whispered the last. Then his eyes closed involuntarily, teeth bit at his bottom lip, and he waited as one waits for execution. Only in silence. Relief mingled with guilt when Genma finally answered.

"No."

A tear tracking its way down Iruka's tan cheek stopped midway and made a detour toward his lips. It slid along the crease, slipping into his mouth, onto his tongue. The salt taste made him grimace, but it helped to dispel the flavor of Genma's kiss. It quenched the twisted thirst still lurking there and drew his mind from the darkness lapping at its borders. With the last of his strength and faltering resolve, Iruka reached out and patted Genma on the back of the head. The man shied away from the boy's touch and opened his eyes, turning them up to meet Iruka's.

"How can you stand it? To be so close to me? Iruka! I'm...oh, gods, I'm sorry, Iruka!"

"Shh. G-Genma...come on..."

With effort, he moved the jounin from the sour smell of his despair and closer to the mound of smoldering embers. With a sparking jutsu, Iruka forced new life into the glow, and soon they sat before a fire once again. Light licked at Genma's face, casting changing expressions on the immobile features as the man stared directly forward.

Iruka looked away, unable to bear it. This wasn't Genma. This wasn't Iruka. This was something else entirely, and the raw heart in the boy's chest cried out even as his lips stayed sealed shut against the sobs. He huddled against Genma's side, taking refuge in the only safe harbor he'd known since the demon fox took his parents, and this time Genma didn't shift away. He sat perfectly still, allowing Iruka to take, to demand the comfort owed him, and made no move to claim his own.

They stayed there by the fire, enveloped in quiet darkness, for what seemed like hours. Until the flames were less like an inferno, more like the gentle ache in Iruka's chest that resonated through the rest of his body.

He noticed a sound. Genma was talking...

"...and...and I need to know...I mean...I'd like to...Iruka was that...was that..." The final words were dry and hoarse, barely audible above the natural sounds of the leaves and cicadas that had again started to buzz. "...your first...?"

Strangely, Iruka felt the infamous blush cross his cheeks. Even after what Genma had done, he was _blushing_, and something deep inside uncoiled, just a bit. It seemed the most natural thing to do. To blush. To almost smile at the way Genma always underestimated him.

"Uh...no..."

Iruka could feel Genma's surprise stutter through the man's body as he leaned against him.

"But, but your first with a--"

"Man? No, nii-chan. Mizu-kun."

"Mizu? Mizuki? Are you two...?"

"No!" Genma's posture stiffened slightly at the word. "I...don't think I like him...like that...and all he really wanted was...well..."

Genma swallowed. _What Minato had wanted from Shi-chan._

"What **I** wanted from--Oh, _fuck_, Iruka. I'm sorry." Genma's heart was racing again, and it wouldn't be long before he was crouched in the grass at the edge of the clearing once more. Iruka tried to stop him, but Genma's words were coming too fast: "I can't believe...I can't...how could I be just like _him_…like what he did to Kashi…and Iruka--how can you stand...what I did...you should..." Iruka lost the thread of Genma's ranting, understanding nothing but his own name amidst the jumbled syllables and the jounin's repeated "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..."

He tried again, raising his voice above Genma's stream of apologies. "So you don't." The jounin fell silent, peering curiously up at the teenager. "You said you don't want me. And you don't. Not like that. It was just...was just..."

Genma's eyes slid closed, though he didn't turn away this time. "I'm sorry..."

"No, I understand, now. Mizuki laughed when I told him I didn't want to do it again because I didn't love..." Iruka blushed again, feeling foolish for his naiveté. "He laughed and said it was okay because I was cute. That-that the jounin would have _fun_ when I started doing real missions with them. Is..." For a moment, his throat closed itself, gummed up by the words he needed to say, clogged with the ugliness of it. "...is this what Mizuki meant by _mission sex_, ni-nii-chan? Were you just having _fun_ with me? Using me...to...to..." Words failed the boy, and Genma finally wrapped an arm around the quaking shoulders beside him, holding the smaller body, so abused, against his own.

Just beside Iruka's ear, Genma whispered, "No. I didn't mean to--I wasn't--I didn't know what I was...that's no excuse. Iruka, you _aren't_ mission sex. You aren't and never will be. I want you to remember that. You're different. And if anyone...if anyone tries to...again...punch 'em. I don't care _who_ it is. They don't have a--"

When Genma's back hit the ground, a breathless whoosh told Iruka he'd knocked the air from the jounin's lungs. After a few minutes of choking and sputtering, Genma croaked, "I deserved that. _More than that..._" Still, he finally sounded like himself, and suddenly Iruka's world snapped back into place with a nearly audible pop. _Fix this._

"No. Consider us even." Silence tried to wedge its way between them once more. Without thinking, Iruka added, "Our mission failed."

Genma staggered to his feet and across the circle, dropping to the ground in front of his pack. After rummaging for a moment, he returned with a small object in his hands. "No, it didn't. Look what I found in my pack while you were asleep." It was an ornate scroll. Their mission had been to retrieve it from the locked cabinet in the trophy room of the daimyo of Water Country. And they had done it, though Genma didn't remember escaping with or without the scroll.

Somehow, Iruka did not count the mission a success. He'd been captured. He'd been a liability. It was his fault Genma had been driven to madness by…whatever horrible thing he'd been forced to do. The flat tone of his own voice startled Iruka when he muttered, "You shouldn't have come back for me."

With a smirk, Genma flopped back down beside the boy, senbon lolling at the corner of his lips. "Sandaime-sama considers you one of his sons. You think I would've lived long after abandoning you?"

"The mission comes first."

"Not for me, it doesn't. Getting my teammates back to Konoha to fight another day--_that's_ important. Learned that from Kashi-kun."

"Kashi-kun...?" The half-mumbled, half-hummed word floated from Iruka's lips unbidden, and Genma glanced down to find the boy's blush spreading again.

He knew that look.

"_You!_ You _like_ Kakashi? Whoa." There was no way the jounin could manage to hide the mirth in his voice, and Iruka was glad that his humiliation was, at least, helping Genma to forget what had happened. He wondered if he could forget as easily.

"No, no, I just...I saw him crying once, and--"

"He doesn't cry." Genma stared down at him, perplexed.

"Oh, he does! It was horrible!" Without realizing it, Iruka was already moving on, as well. The tightness inside released its grip and, finally, it was just Iruka and Genma once more. Just themselves. Just a normal mission together. "On _that_ night. He brought that Naruto boy to the Sannin in the mission room, and then he came and sat beside me. And he cried. I don't know why, exactly..."

Genma raised an eyebrow. "Weird, and...weird."

He knew, of course: the Yellow Flash had died that night. Though, he wondered at Kakashi's reaction after what the man had done to him. A glance at Iruka had him wondering the same thing about the boy beside him. How could he seem to forgive him so easily?

With a shrug, Iruka simply said, "Yeah. Weird."

They sat together by the fire for another hour. As the sky began to pink at the edges, Genma sent Iruka to bed, insisting he would keep watch from across the circle. Grudgingly, the boy surrendered and lay down, covering his head with the blanket to block out the burgeoning dawn.

Genma watched him from afar, listening to Iruka as he cried himself to sleep. He chewed and sucked the senbon, jabbing a million pin pricks along his tongue, deeper, hurting, punishing.

His mind wandered with the pain. Could Iruka and Kakashi--could they be happy together? The image played across his vision, Iruka chasing after Kakashi, making a grab for the silvery pale boy's hand. The two walking together, happily. Their smiles turned strained, eyes hard, and Genma realized it wasn't Iruka holding Kakashi's hand, but himself. Dragging Kakashi along behind him.

With a start, Genma sat up. He'd fallen asleep. The sun was already high, and it was easily past ten.

"Hey, Iruka-chan! Time to get going!"

The boy rubbed sleep from his eyes and nodded.

They broke camp to the tune of genial conversation. They didn't wonder at the vague stiffness in their voices. They didn't question the extra space between them as they walked. They didn't hope to return to the same closeness they'd had before, but didn't yet realize how far apart they really were.

And they never mentioned it, except occasionally muttered words that escaped Genma's parted lips as he slept.

_Iruka will never be mission sex for anyone ever again._

* * *

_**A/N:** "Hokaku," the name of the village they go to, it means "capture, seizure." Just a random note. _


	7. Only a Thought

**Iruka, 15, Chuunin (mission desk/does missions); Genma, 21, ANBU/Jounin; Kakashi, 17, ANBU/Jounin.**

_tap-tap-tap_

Visitors were rare, and those who did stop rarely knocked. Kakashi noted that it wasn't Genma's chakra signature and continued cleaning his weapons in the hopes that whoever it was would just go away.

_tap-tap-tap_

_Apparently not._ The teenaged assassin slunk toward the door, kunai in hand. He was wearing only a gray pair of pajama pants and felt overwhelmingly exposed when he realized the person on the other side of the door was a jounin of equal level. Grabbing his mask off of the small table beside the door, he deftly slipped it over his head. His hair was wet, and his skin blushed pink from a scalding shower.

The light patter of drops on the windowsill hinted at continuing rainfall.

_tap-tap-tap_

Kakashi opened the door slowly. "Raidou-san?"

"I, uh, _we_ need to talk." The scarred man stared at the ground, hands in his pockets.

Kakashi stepped away from the door, turning his back on Raidou, who hesitated before entering Kakashi's apartment. He left his shoes next to the door, neatly beside his host's, and took a seat on a couch indicated by the silver-haired young man.

Kakashi disappeared for a moment, returning from the kitchen with tea and cups on a tray. Pouring Raidou's and placing it before him, he asked, "What can I do for you, Raidou-san?" He kept his voice even, neutral, and nearly polite, skirting the edges of etiquette with stiff formality. He wouldn't have bothered with anyone else, but Raidou's rank was currently higher than his own. Kakashi resumed his seat at the squat table, carefully starting to pack up his cleaning supplies and kunai.

"I think...there's something I can do for _you_..." When he paused, Kakashi glanced pointedly at Raidou's untouched tea, reminding the man to take a first sip. Then, as if the heat of the liquid loosened his voice, the words spilled out of Raidou's mouth: "I think you should know the truth about Yondaime-sama."

_thwack_

Raidou followed Kakashi's gaze, twisting around toward the wall behind the couch and the kunai embedded mere inches from his throat.

"Don't mention him again." Kakashi stopped packing up the assorted rags and bottles and, instead, resumed his cleaning regimen despite the presence of his guest.

"Kakashi-san, I wouldn't have brought it up if it weren't an important matter."

The older jounin watched the younger pick up another kunai and twirl it lazily in his hand. "Hmm." The taut, wire-stiff set of Kakashi's back betrayed his underlying fury.

Taking the lack of protest as permission, Raidou began.

"You see, I was on guard duty..."

He told Kakashi everything he knew. His sensei's pleading and Sandaime's refusal. The choice the blond faced; the decision made. Most of all, he was relieved to finally tell Kakashi that the Fourth had been _forbidden_ to see him, that he hadn't chosen to abandon his student. The knowledge had been working at Raidou for nearly four years and finally--_Finally!_--it had found its outlet. When he was finished, Raidou slumped, visibly drained, and sank into the couch.

Kakashi stared at the man before him. At some point during the telling, their tea had gone cold. The patter of rain had strengthened to a thunder-punctuated downpour. He couldn't say when, but Kakashi had jumped to his feet, hanging on every word that fell from the penitent man's tongue. He didn't ask why Raidou had waited so long to tell him; he knew duty would demand the strictest silence.

Kakashi's slender fingers wrapped tightly around the kunai in his hand, white knuckles straining with the strength of his grip. His lips parted, and the question he needed to ask above all else rose from his chest: "Who told him? Who told Sandaime about me and sensei?!" It was not a yell--in fact, Raidou would be hard-pressed later to recall if Kakashi's voice had even risen above a whisper--but it carried the weight of years. Of loneliness. Of loss and pain and, above all else, anger. Cold, heavy anger that seeped into Raidou and froze his voice and mouth so thoroughly he couldn't answer. Had he the means, in that moment, he was certain he would have given Genma over without a second thought.

But he didn't, and Kakashi sensed it as a hesitation. An indication that Raidou knew, that he was protecting someone...

_thwack, thwack--_

When the third kunai didn't hit the wall, Kakashi peered hard at Raidou. The man's stricken face was quickly draining of color. His features danced between pain and disbelief, settling somewhere in between, a pitiful look that reminded Kakashi of Obito.

The sound of his own kunai clattering to the tile floor jerked Kakashi back to the present as surely as a physical blow. The red bloom on the front of Raidou's shirt was blood, and it was growing. In silence, Kakashi stepped forward to examine the wound. Grinding his teeth, he placed one hand on either side of Raidou and used the Sharingan to initiate a transportation jutsu.

While the sudden appearance of two jounin in the hospital emergency room might have taken some of the medic-nin by surprise, the sight of blood soaking the material at Raidou's side sent them into action. Soon the jounin were ushered away to a patient room, and the bleeding stanched. To the inquiry, "Please, tell me what happened," Kakashi found himself at a loss for words. As he opened his mouth to mutter some kind of improvised lie, Raidou spoke up, instead: "Training accident." The kunoichi asking the questions nodded and smiled before leaving the room, gently shutting the door behind her.

"Training accident," Kakashi repeated.

"Get out." Kakashi didn't respond to the muttered words and Raidou repeated, more forcefully, "Get out! I'm sorry I tried to do the right thing, dammit. Just get the hell out of here, now!"

Kakashi couldn't think of anything to say to that. Raidou had every right to be upset, after all, he supposed. The man could have told the medic-nin Kakashi had attacked him, another Konoha ninja, injuring him in an act of outright treason. Raidou hadn't. The least Kakashi could do was leave without a fight.

Standing, he nodded to the injured man, then disappeared with a light puff of smoke and the vague scent of sulfur.

Iruka stood in front of the small medicine cabinet mirror, his tan face sickly in the grey-green florescent lighting.

He traced a finger across his scar. It had been an accident; his parents had told him the story of how Genma's cries had bordered on hysteria when he saw Iruka bleeding in his bassinet. It had been his own kunai that had cut the baby, and Genma had promised through his sobs to protect Iruka "no matter what" to make up for it.

He always had.

Iruka used the scar to remind him of his friend when he was lonely. Absently, he traced it again, eyes following the movements in the mirror. Somehow, the habit wasn't nearly as comforting now.

Glaring at the image before him, he tried to discern what was so very wrong with the thin, graceful nose, the high cheekbones, and dark, almond-shaped eyes that stared back at him. Lost in thought, he jumped at an abrupt burst of lightning and thunder.

Iruka hated being alone in the old house when it was so miserable outside. Glaring at his reflection, he couldn't stop the sardonic smirk that surfaced as he mumbled, "Inside, outside; it's all the same. Mizuki didn't want me, not really, and Genma...and Kakashi--I doubt he even knows I exist except as the _annoying desk chuunin_, if that."

He turned to leave the room, flipping off the light and taking a step out of the door, but when he thought about venturing back into the emptiness of the rest of the house, Iruka faltered and backed up. Sliding down the bathroom wall to the hard stone tiles below, he closed his eyes. His last thought before sleep was that he might need to consider selling the house and moving into an apartment, something smaller, less empty. Some day.

The sound of the rain softened to a dull thrum, and Iruka finally found sleep.

When Genma stopped off at Kakashi's and found no one there, he wasn't really worried. When he didn't find his partner at the memorial or sitting on the crumbling edge of the Hokage monument, he began to wonder. When he couldn't detect Kakashi's chakra anywhere nearby, he decided to start a systematic search: mission room, Hokage office, guard duty, hospital...

The medic-nin had nodded and pointed him across the hall to a bland patient room, but inside, he hadn't found Kakashi, only Raidou, with a very strange story.

Now, Genma cursed under his breath as he tried to move closer while still remaining hidden in the bushes. Kakashi was there on the training field, exactly as he expected, but the scene before Genma was anything but ordinary.

Kakashi stood in the rain wearing only a pair of gray pants, face-to-face with a clone henged to look like the Yellow Flash. The clone leaned forward and kissed Kakashi's cheek before stepping back and taking a defensive stance on the other side of the practice ring. The silver-haired jounin's skin glowed, even in the wan moonlight that peeked between rain clouds, and Genma watched, mesmerized, as the two specters sparred. Each time Kakashi landed a hit on his sensei's image, it popped away into nonexistence, immediately replaced by two identical henged clones. The number he faced grew exponentially as Kakashi slipped and spun in the mud, taking out many at once. The beauty of the movements--of Kakashi's body, more exposed than he'd seen it in months--held Genma enthralled, until a glint of red caught his eye. With a shock, he realized that Kakashi's Sharingan was exposed. _Fuckin' overkill. Is he __**tryin'**__ to drain his chakra?_

Genma's surprise must have relaxed his control on his own chakra, because the cloned Yellow Flashes disappeared in a single pop that left the clearing deathly quiet except for the constant drumming of the rain. Kakashi glared toward his hiding place.

"Come out, Ma-kun. I know you're there."

Stumbling out of the underbrush, Genma stopped a few paces from his partner. "What's going on?"

"Go home, Genma."

The image of Kakashi driving his heel into the face of a Yondaime-clone kept Genma's feet rooted to the spot. Maybe it was time to get those feelings out, whatever pent-up emotions Kakashi had left over from his sensei's betrayal. Genma remembered with disgust the way the blond had taken advantage of Kakashi and used him. Bile rose at the back of his throat, and he spit to the side, eyes never leaving Kakashi's. "Do ya hate him, Kakashi?" It wouldn't do to let on that he already knew.

The pale boy--in that moment, truly only a boy--arched a brow at Genma, but the facade had cracked slightly at the words.

"Yondaime-sama. Did he...did he do somethin' to you? _Things_...to you..." With each word, Genma took a step closer. "He's dead now, so it's okay...He won't do anything el--!" He had half-way expected the sweeping leg that banged into the backs of his calves, but the impact still came as a shock.

Genma rolled, dodging a kunai on luck alone. The next barely missed as he danced away, landing a shove at both of Kakashi's shoulders that sent the smaller nin tumbling backward in the slick mud. It was a feint, and Kakashi rolled into a crouch, changed direction, and jumped back toward his partner. Genma still managed to fend off the attack, but he was finally certain that Kakashi was _trying_ to kill him.

The katon jutsu Kakashi called up was the only thing that saved Genma in the end. It barely singed his sleeve and grazed the skin below, but it also depleted the last reserves of Kakashi's chakra, leaving only enough to keep his body animate. The young man collapsed onto all fours just out of arm's reach from Genma, who was sitting on his knees in the mud. For a while, it was just the rain between them, washing away the grit from their bodies, the evidence of their fight.

Without preamble, Kakashi crawled through the mud and murky pools of rain, dragging himself head-and-shoulders into Genma's lap. Genma stared, unable to process the unthinkable--that Kakashi wanted comfort, finally--then wrapped his arms around the boy's trembling body, scooping him further onto his lap.

Kakashi's voice barely carried above the rain when he whispered, "Ma-kun...he...he..."

Genma stroked Kakashi's wet hair and glared over Kakashi's shoulder at the forest beyond, muttering through gritted teeth, "What'd he do to you?" He braced for the flood of emotion, the confession and wracking sobs as Kakashi related the story of his rape at the hands of the future Hokage...anything other than the broken sound that escaped Kakashi's lips before his usual stoicism slipped and he broke down completely.

"Nothing! Nothing, when I longed for it more than anything. Just...just once, I thought he loved me, too. But then, he refused to see me, and I thought...but Raidou says he was ordered...so now...now I know he...and I loved him, Ma-kun...I loved him..." The words ran out of Kakashi like the blood that trickled from the gash on Genma's cheek: a long stream of pain.

Something cold and sharp withdrew deep into Genma, settling itself around the base of his spine, freezing him from inside out. _Kami-sama...what did I do..._ He tried to speak, whether to confess or console, he really couldn't say, but for once he found himself speechless. The weeks of surveillance boiled to the surface of his memory, the things he'd seen and disregarded as perfunctory while watching the pair: shared food and inside jokes, the way they laughed during taijutsu practice when they finally collapsed together from exhaustion, the smile only the Yellow Flash seemed able to bring to Kakashi's face, the way they had finished one another's sentences and sometimes hadn't even seemed to require words...

Genma pulled Kakashi closer to his chest, arms against the bare flesh of his shirtless torso, willing any warmth left in his body to move into the boy to whom he'd done so much wrong. He buried his face in Kakashi's hair, a pale cheek flush with Genma's chest, and breathed into his scalp, his mind screaming _I'm sorry!_ with every exhalation. Kakashi shifted, moved, looked up into Genma's face and hesitated just long enough for Genma to part his lips in question. Then, Kakashi rose up, brought their lips together, and knocked Genma to the ground in a single fluid motion.

Kakashi's lips were fire against Genma's chill. They moved along his jaw and neck, coaxing the warmth back into Genma's numb mind, branding the skin along his shoulder and collar bone, tasting sweat and dirt, ignoring the grit and the tang that might have been blood. Feral teeth grazed Genma's adam's apple. Kakashi's tongue flicked into Genma's ear before seeking his mouth once again. Stubbled chins bumped as they kissed, and the prickly sensation registered at the edges of Genma's mind as they lay together in the mud of the training ground, an odd contrast to the softness of the rain and the ground and each other.

The boy's hand fumbled toward Genma's belt, but the older jounin stopped him. It was one mistake he wasn't ready to make, not when he owed Kakashi so much more. "Later," he whispered, and offered a hand to Kakashi, pulling him up off the ground. Kakashi dropped the hand as soon as he stood, and started walking away through the rain in the vague direction of his home. With a steadying breath, forcing back the part of him that wanted to return to embracing and holding Kakashi, Genma followed, shadowing the boy in case he collapsed, staying just behind until he was safely inside the apartment.

**Two weeks later.**

Two shadows passed without notice between buildings, onto roofs, into a window. Slipping between panes of darkness amidst the sleeping populace, the targets never opened their eyes.

The dog hung back behind the rat, wondering, not for the first time, what was happening inside the man's head. His distraction could endanger the mission.

His worry became reality when two tall shinobi burst into the room. They eyed the bodies, and then the Leaf-nin. Their own hitai-ate glinted in the moonlight, drawing the eye, making their movements harder to track. Before the dog knew what had happened, he'd blocked the attack on the rat and shoved him out the window, following a moment later, the beginnings of a new scar on his upper arm.

It wasn't what he had planned. It wasn't even something he had considered.

Sleeping with Kakashi..._sleeping with_..._Kakashi_...

It wasn't what he'd planned.

The mission had mostly been a success. Another multi-assassination; a quick trip to Rock and back. There had been a lot of blood and running, after the fall through the window, and in the end Genma wasn't sure exactly how they'd escaped capture.

He should have expected something that night. It seemed like nothing had gone right for Genma since his mission with Iruka; everything was conspiring against him. At least, it's what he told himself when Kakashi crawled into his bedroll in the middle of the night. There were no words, not in the beginning, just Kakashi pressing himself against the length of Genma's body, his arms snaking around the older man's waist, hips thrusting slowly...There may not have been any words spoken, but Kakashi's body begged _Kiss me. Fuck me. Love me._ There may not have been any words, but Genma's body relinquished control almost immediately, a resounding _Yes!_ torn from his own trembling and thrusting. When they were close, so close that their need superseded most thought, a single shred of control held tight in Genma's mind, and he moved Kakashi, bodily, positioning him between his own legs. "F-fuck me, Kakashi..."

Kakashi had leaned down and kissed him, simultaneously slipping aside layers of clothing, and then Genma's breath was taken away by the sudden fullness of Kakashi entering his body. Genma reveled in the pleasure laced with, and almost descending into, pain. He grunted, spreading his legs wider, raising his knees higher, making room for Kakashi's hips to find their angle, and taking the brunt of Kakashi's frustrations.

It wasn't what he'd planned, but Genma saw it for what it was: redemption. For Kakashi. For Iruka. No one would violate Kakashi again; no one would hurt him again. He couldn't bring the Yellow Flash back, but he could at least give the boy something else on which to focus his affections.

Genma took a deep breath in between thrusts, his mind flicking to a certain tanned chuunin momentarily, before Kakashi resumed pounding him down into the ground. He was betraying Iruka again, but it was too late to turn back--Genma could only fix one mistake at a time.

He felt his back arch uncontrollably, his body reacting to the physical stimulus, loosing his need messily all along his stomach, catching him off guard. Kakashi continued briefly, then thrust deep. His fingers dug into Genma's hips as he called his name into the night.

"Min-a-ato!"

_His_ name.

Genma hadn't expected it, and it hurt like hell.

It wasn't what he'd planned, but, he thought, perhaps, it was what he deserved.

Lying together afterward, cleaned and clothed, legs tangled beneath the blanket, Kakashi had mumbled into Genma's shoulder, "I wonder...if I'll ever know who...told Sandaime..."

**One year later.**

Iruka, 16, Chuunin (mission desk/assistant sensei); Genma, 21, ANBU/Jounin; Kakashi, 18, ANBU/Jounin./b

It was near dawn when Genma and Kakashi finally reached the borders of Fire Country. They'd made good time, and the familiarity of the forest set them at ease. Relief settled into the space between Kakashi's shoulder blades, glad to see that, for the first time in weeks, Genma's smile was genuine.

"Hey, Shi-chan," Genma stretched his arms above his head, working the muscles of his back and shoulders, "It feels sooo fuckin' gooood to be back in the village. Doesn't it?" He poked his lover, who leveled a gaze that clearly threatened pain if he repeated the act, which he did. Kakashi rolled his eyes and kept walking.

They stowed their ANBU gear and entered the village at the rarely used western gate, nodding to the two chuunin posted in the guard house. Rice paddies gave way to fields, which abutted the older estates, and a bit further along, they could see the smaller houses of the village proper. Passing a large, two-story home situated in between, Genma's feet simply stopped moving.

Kakashi waited patiently.

Eventually, Genma opened his mouth. Closed it. Looked at the _For Sale_ sign posted in the yard. Opened his mouth again. "Iruka..." Kakashi continued to wait for any forthcoming explanation, but when it was obvious that Genma wouldn't be offering it, he tugged at his partner's elbow and started toward town. Genma fell into step beside him, his gait a bit less confident than before. "Iruka's house is for sale?"

Kakashi ventured, "Iruka?" He wondered at the melancholy smile turned his way, but didn't comment.

"Iruka's...was...my friend. Grew up together, though he's younger than you. He's a chuunin, tan, sometimes works the mission desk--"

"The one who likes to yell?" Many jounin claimed the lower-ranked shinobi wasn't to be taken lightly.

Genma clicked his senbon from one side to the other and back again. His hands were shoved into his pockets to hide the way they trembled as he mulled over his options. It was the first time Iruka had ever really come up. To be honest, Genma had been avoiding the subject for years. After his..._big mistake_...they still weren't speaking, at least not like before. They were barely acquaintances anymore. Genma was supposed to be protecting Iruka.

_And what a fuckin' _awesome_ job I did._

Realizing he'd been silent for far too long, Genma nodded and gave a hollow chuckle, "Yeah, heh, that's him."

For a fleeting, panicked moment, Genma had considered confessing Iruka's feelings to Kakashi, asking him to at least meet the chuunin and help him put an end to his childish crush. He'd opened his mouth, the words poised on his tongue, but they had died in an ash-tasting choke as he slammed his mouth shut again. He couldn't tell Kakashi something like that. He couldn't send him to Iruka, who was sweet and warm and so very open and would pull Kakashi in like a moth to lantern light. One smile would banish Kakashi's darkness.

Until a few years ago, he might have been happy to help. A year ago, he _might_ have been able to manage the loss. But, now, he was finding he didn't want to give Kakashi up. Ever. It was selfish, he knew, but Genma chose to remain silent on the subject, ignoring the clench of his chest.

Instead, he continued his previous line of thought. "Anyway, that's...that's his house. I pretty much grew up there. It's hard to imagine anyone else livin' in it." In fact, it felt utterly wrong to consider it, but there was nothing he could do. Genma forced his smile to return and shrugged as they started to walk again. "Want some ramen when we get to town? Or how 'bout some okonomiyaki?"

"You should just buy it."

"What?" Genma gaped as if Kakashi had just told him he should just defect to a foreign village. _Just stay out of it, Kakashi._

"You should buy the house. If it matters so much."

Genma immediately found the fault in his partner's logic: "But it's just me, and the house is fuckin' huge. I can't afford that, and even if I could, who'd wanna live alone in a--"

"Who said alone?" Kakashi cut a sideways glance at Genma, a smile partly visible, outlined beneath his mask.

"You'd...you wanna live together? _You_ wanna--"

"Mmm."

"I'll...I'll think about it," Genma mumbled and started

And he would. Just not that day. By force of will, Genma pushed all thoughts of Iruka and his house to the back of his mind and focused on putting one foot in front of the other.

**Two weeks later.**

"Wh-what...?" Anyone who knew Iruka, or had faced his wrath, could see that his temper was boiling just below the surface.

"Iruka-chan..." Izumo put a hand on his friend's back. "Why are you--Ow!"

Kotetsu glared at Izumo. "Shut up. Don't be an idiot. Iruka, ignore him and everyone else. Look at me." The tan chuunin sitting beside them was still staring straight ahead, across the room, at the knot of jounin talking in the corner. Kotetsu grabbed his head and tried to force him to turn away. "Look. At. Me."

Ignoring his friends' efforts to comfort him, Iruka stood, still staring. "How long?"

"Iruka...don't do this to yourself. They're just--"

"How long?!" Some of the jounin and chuunin in line turned to gape, fully aware that an outburst from the tanned man might warrant returning later. When he realized Kotetsu wasn't going to answer, Iruka glared, hopped over the desk, and crossed the room in a handful of steps, the other nin parting to allow him through. "Genma!"

"Iruka..."

"Come with me." He grabbed the older man's shoulder and dragged him out into the corridor. Realizing most of the others were probably listening, he kept going, pulling Genma up the stairs and out onto the roof. "ANBU-sama--" He made a quick bow to the stationed guard; Raidou, if he were to guess. "--may we talk up here without bothering you?" A nod from the masked ANBU granted Iruka permission. He punched Genma hard across the face.

"What the hell, Iruka!"

"You...you...y-you...and Kakashi..." He wasn't crying or whining. Iruka's voice only trembled with anger kept barely under control. "You _knew_ that I..."

"Iruka, I'm--I'm sorry."

Iruka's fists clenched at his sides, and Genma closed his eyes, braced to take the hit that never came. When he looked again, the chuunin was gone, and he thought he heard the distinct sound of laughter muffled behind the ANBU's mask.

"Dude, what am I doin'?"

More laughter, though very nearly sympathetic in its gentleness followed Genma back down the stairs and into the mission room. When he reached Iruka's desk, the tan chuunin appeared composed and _normal_. "Hello, jounin-sama, here is your scroll."

Genma took it and frowned. "Wait, Iruka, can't we--"

"I'm sorry, jounin-sama, but I'm extremely busy at the moment."

Genma's frown deepened, and he peered at the fine wrinkles of tension on his friend's forehead. "Iruka, what can I do...?"

Iruka stared up at him a moment longer before turning to the next nin in line. "Welcome back. Thank you for your hard work."

There was a broken quality to the words that tore at Genma as he quickly left the room, the building, the village, and made his way toward the training grounds. He was probably the only person who could detect the tremble in Iruka's voice, but that knowledge did nothing to absolve Genma's conscience, knowing he was also the cause.

**Three more weeks passed.**

When the house still hadn't sold weeks after going on the market, Iruka tried not to be discouraged by the lack of interest. He couldn't blame people for wanting to live closer to the center of town. He, himself, had found an apartment not far from the academy where he would be teaching the next year.

The mission desk was slow, no one waiting in line, just a trickle of returning nin coming to turn in reports, so it was no wonder Iruka was shocked out of a daydream when Genma got impatient and tapped him roughly on the shoulder. "Yo, Iruka."

"Um, yes, may I help you?" Politeness. Coldness. Complete detachment.

Silence.

"Shiranui-san?"

When Genma found his voice, it was choked and distorted, unwilling to adapt to the drastic change in the friend he thought he knew. "Iruka...your house..."

"Yes?"

"It's for sale."

"Yes.

"I'd...I wanna buy it?"

The chuunin's eyes widened just slightly, his mouth drew a line and then curved into a tight frown. "You'll pay cash?"

"Of course." His side pouch was stuffed with both his and Kakashi's halves of the purchase price. He still couldn't believe Kakashi had convinced him to do it.

"Fine. Take the money to Sandaime-sama's assistant. She'll hold it for me and make sure the transaction is in the register. She also has the key. The house is empty, so you can move in whenever you'd like." Iruka's eyes lingered on Genma's face a moment longer before turning toward the pitiful stack of scrolls beside him. "Now, jounin-sama, I have work to do. If that is all..."

Genma sighed and muttered, "Yeah, Umino-san. That's all."

**Six months later.**

It was wrong, dangerous, but when he'd seen them, Iruka couldn't help but stop. He wasn't even supposed to be on that side of town, but a student had needed tutoring...and...it was on his way home...

Iruka's heart burned in his chest, tears hot behind his eyes, as he watched Genma and Kakashi through the wide front window. They were only talking, but the gentle way Kakashi touched Genma's shoulder, the lean in Genma's stance as he moved closer to Kakashi...they were things shared privately between lovers...and Iruka's loneliness intensified as he remained frozen, standing on the outside looking in.

He couldn't pull himself away when they kissed, hands grasping and groping, devouring one another, silhouetted in the warm glow of the kitchen lights. Genma turned away from Iruka, slipping out of his tight black t-shirt, and Kakashi's mouth moved to the hollow of one exposed shoulder.

A tingling sensation came over Iruka, and though Kakashi's lips never faltered, kissing and licking, his mismatched eyes were diverted, looking out the window at the chuunin. Iruka stood fully exposed on the wide open sidewalk, held mesmerized by Kakashi's glare.

With a sudden gasp, Iruka bolted.

Inside, Genma asked, "Kakashi, what're you doin'?"

He mumbled into Genma's shoulder, "Thought I saw something. It was nothing."


End file.
